


New Normal

by andromedacrawley



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: (but it’s mostly just an excuse to trap them in a house together), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Lack of Communication, M/M, Modern Retelling of S4-S6, Multi, Only One Bed, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Unconventional Families, idiots to lovers, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 158,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedacrawley/pseuds/andromedacrawley
Summary: Many relationships consist of a couple dating, falling in love, getting engaged, moving in together, marrying, having children, and becoming a family. Tom and Mary are no different— only they do things out of the traditional order. When they are forced to quarantine with their children in the 2020, their friendship is altered irrevocably.
Relationships: Anna Bates & Mary Crawley, Charles Blake/Mary Crawley, George Crawley & Mary Crawley, Mary Crawley/Anthony Foyle, Mary Crawley/Henry Talbot, Mary Crawley/Matthew Crawley, Sybbie Branson & Mary Crawley, Sybbie Branson & Tom Branson, Thomas Barrow & Mary Crawley, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent, Tom Branson & George Crawley, Tom Branson & Mary Crawley, Tom Branson/Laura Edmunds, Tom Branson/Lucy Smith, Tom Branson/Mary Crawley, Tom Branson/Sarah Bunting, Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley (past)
Comments: 185
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my new story! This is a Modern AU of S3-S6 that eventually ditches canon and goes in a different direction. I don’t see as much as a quarantine fic as more of a Modern AU that conveniently uses quarantine to trap them in the same house. It will be a while before we get to that part of the story so it might feel a bit dated for some once we reach there. I’m an American so if there are any inconsistencies that pop up, that’s why! Oddly enough, I feel like it’s harder to write things in the modern day for Downton than it is in the canon era. 
> 
> Just a few things to clear up before we begin: the Crawley House mentioned in this story isn’t the Crawley House from the show— I just decided to call it that to keep it in the mix, but I envision a completely different layout for it in this story. I’ve also changed the ages of characters around in the story— Matthew and Tom are now roughly the same age as Mary. Most of the things I have changed drastically (especially with Tom and Sybil’s backstory) is because I couldn’t see a way to directly translate it into a modern context. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to give me your feedback!

**New Normal**

**Chapter One**

_May 22, 2012_

He sat on the bench by the tree, the same one where she had gone to seek refuge from Mama and Papa whenever she felt they'd been unfair. Whether she was a surly five year old or an emotional fifteen year old or a heartbroken twenty year old, the bench had been her safe haven. It seemed clear to her that it was now Tom's as well.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Mary asked, hating to speak. Her voice, though soft, shattered the quiet and the peace. Birds were chirping and the sun was shining and Tom had clearly been lost in his own thoughts.

Tom glanced up before nodding. "Of course."

Mary sat down. There was a sizable gap between them, one Mary didn't feel comfortable enough to close. Up until a week ago, the closest she had been to him was a couple polite handshakes. They may have grabbed each other's arms once or twice in moments of great haste, but their relationship was mainly a cordial one. In a way, it seemed absurd there was still this awkwardness lingering about them— he was practically her _brother-in-law_ , for heaven's sake.

"Have you thought about the christening yet?" asked Mary.

Tom let out a noise between a laugh and a scoff. "Why else for you think I'm out here?" When Mary have him a dubious look, he clarified, "Your sister asked the same question." Mary couldn't resist grimacing at the idea of her and Edith having the same thought. "Your father's up in arms about her being a Catholic. I had to point out the last name on the birth certificate is Branson, not Crawley, and that I can do as I please."

Mary couldn't resist rolling her eyes. Papa had never gotten used to the idea of Tom and Sybil together— an Irish car mechanic who dabbled in socialism wasn't an ideal choice in partner for his baby girl. The past couple of years had been tough— Papa had disapproved of the relationship, of the engagement, of Sybil's plan to move to Ireland and marry Tom after graduating, of the fact his daughter was pregnant before marriage... even though they lived in the 21st century, Papa was horribly old fashioned.

Things had been better for a period of time. Sybil decided not to return to school for her final semester, which came as a shock to everyone who knew her. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had dreamed of being a nurse and helping people. "Knowing my luck, the baby would come during finals," Sybil insisted. "And when I graduate, I'd be the size of a boat. No," she'd said, "I'm going to wait."

Tom had a flat that Sybil stayed at frequently when she was at uni— Mary wasn't sure why her parents even bothered paying for housing on campus when she spent so little of her time there. Nevertheless, Papa had been opposed to the idea of Sybil living there, obsessed with the propriety of it all— why he felt the need, Mary couldn't say. However, he had caved once Sybil's pregnancy progressed, after her sister insisted that it was hard to manage such a life changing time without Tom's. There was reluctance on all ends for him to move into the Abbey... and it wasn't a marvelous development for anyone involved.

"They fight nearly every day," Sybil

had complained. "It's usually Papa starting it but Tom'll pick arguments, too. The stress isn't good for the baby!"

"And it isn't good for you either. You look so pale," remarked Mary. In hindsight, she found herself wondering if that was an early symptom or simply a result of the enormous stress she was under.

Sybil had shaken her head. "He's so hard on Tom. I don't understand it." She stuck out her chin. "He was never this hard on Matthew— or Anthony, for that matter," she said, referring to the man who only mere weeks prior had left their sister at the alter.

Mary shook her head. "You're the youngest. I'm sure that has something to do with it... and Matthew did things the way Papa likes it. He asked permission before proposing. Tom never did." Sybil huffed, crossing her arms above her protruding stomach. "Your fiancé is a bit of a bad boy, darling."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "It's an outdated, antiquated, and sexist custom. Papa doesn't own me and Tom won't either. And I hope you realize that Tom's treated me with a great deal respect— far more than Larry ever did," she added, referring to her ex-boyfriend.

Funnily enough, that conversation had taken place on the same bench Mary and Tom now sat. How strange it was, mused Mary, to think that only a month ago, her sister had been alive and seemingly healthy... and now she was gone.

That sobering thought brought her back to reality "Ignore my father. He'll come around. Sybil's his first granddaughter," assured Mary. It sounded so strange, saying that name without referring to her sister. She hesitated before adding, "I'll stand up for you, at any rate. She told me that she wanted the baby to be Catholic." Mary knew that she didn't need to clarify who she was speaking about.

"Did she?" Tom was smiling now— a sight she hadn't seen in what felt like ages. "Oh, God, she really?" His hand had found hers.

Mary couldn't help but think of the last time they had touched— her and Matthew had been forced to drag him from Sybil's hospital bed as he begged her not to leave him, his ragged voice louder than the sound of the machines and doctors who were trying to keep his fiancée alive, and when he'd fallen to his knees on the linoleum floor, Mary had followed him down, hugging him as he wept into her hair and too shocked by what was happening to cry herself.

This, she decided, was far more pleasant. Mary squeezed his hand ever so slightly. "She did."

Much to her embarrassment, tears were in his eyes. One would have thought she'd be used to the sight by now, given the hell they'd gone through, but a reminder of delicate emotions always made her uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, it's just— well, I never knew."

"It's quite alright," Mary assured him gently as possible. As he dried his eyes, she realized it was time. "Actually, there was another reason I came today."

"Oh?"

Mary chewed on her bottom lip. "Sybil told me another thing. Before..." she trailed off. He knew what she meant; there was no need to say it. "She said that you needed to move forward." Tom didn't seem to be following. "The point is Tom, you can't keep living here." This house, this environment, was terrible for him. Sybil's death had well and truly destroyed him. He didn't even have a respite at work, the sheer grief and the responsibility of raising a baby weighing on him so greatly his mind that he had quit his job.

He looked as if he'd been slapped. Tom's shoulders tensed, a dark look crossing his face as he scowled. "Don't worry. I won't intrude much longer here. I've talked with my brother in Liverpool—"

"Oh, no, Tom!" Mary cried out, horrified at how easily her words had been misconstrued. "No, I was about to say that Matthew and I have two spare rooms at Crawley House. One for you and one for the baby." Tom stared at her in astonishment as she continued, "You can stay with Matthew and I, as long as you need to. But being with Mama and Papa— well, it's no good for anyone. Especially not you and the baby."

Tom seemed torn. "Does Matthew know about this?"

"It was his idea." Mary couldn't help but smile at his shock. "I'm ashamed it wasn't mine."

However, Tom still seemed reluctant. "It's very nice of you offer," he said, in that stiff, polite voice that didn't suit him at all. "But have either of you thought about what will happen when the two of you have children of your own?"

Mary had to look away. The topic of fertility was a difficult one. Ever since marrying, her and Matthew had been trying for a baby with little success. In the midst of the torture that was funeral planning and burial arrangements and her own insurmountable grief over losing her baby sister, Mary's period had arrived two days after her sister's untimely death. It was yet another reason to lock herself in the bathroom and cry.

"We can talk about that when the time comes," Mary told him, glancing back at him now. "I suppose if things were ever that dire, they could share. But I doubt it will come to that." Mary met his gaze. "Will you think about it?"

Tom hesitated before nodding. "I will."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said sincerely. She reached out, taking his hand again. "You know how to get ahold of me or Matthew if you need anything." She squeezed it once before letting go and rising to her feet. They said their goodbyes and Mary wandered up the path, leaving him to digest his thoughts.

* * *

_June 16, 2012_

Mary yawned, stretching out in their large bed. Matthew's side was empty— judging by the temperature, he had risen some time ago. Sunlight streamed in through the parted curtains as Mary sat up. She picked up her discarded negligee from the night before, only to toss it on the ground. She threw on something a little more modest, wincing before deciding to put on a bra. Having another person in the house was going to change things immensely...

The stairwell was a mess. Cardboard boxes were littered everywhere— prior to the arrivals of their new houseguests, Mary and Matthew had used the spare bedrooms as storage space. Moving Tom and baby Sybil in had meant a lot of sporadic rearranging and not nearly enough care to where things were placed. Mary and Matthew were also notoriously untidy— it was a miracle, in Mary's opinion, that between the two of them, they'd managed to keep the floor visible.

When she made it down the stairs, Tom and Matthew were at the table, steaming cups of coffee in hand and newspapers laid out in front on the table even though they weren't reading them. Baby Sybil was in a bassinet next to the table, sleeping. Tom was in the middle of some amusing story when Matthew noticed her. "Mary!" He leapt to his feet to kiss her cheek and pull up a chair. "I was about to wake you! Look," he gestured to the table, "Tom's made us breakfast."

"You shouldn't have," Mary said, although she was heaping her plate already with sausage, eggs, and toast, the mere sight of the food making her ravenous. "If anything, we should be the ones making you breakfast!"

Tom shook his head. "I was up early and I thought I'd show my gratitude."

"You're family," insisted Matthew. "You're allowed to accept our hospitality. I mean, you only moved in yesterday!"

"I mean to do my fair share," Tom maintained. "Until I can pay rent, I'll do whatever I can to help out around here."

He didn't want their pity; Mary understood that. She was the same way. In the first month, Tom had been malleable to their fussing over him but now that the fog of grief had slowly begun to clear, he had been ready to move into action. Mary rather thought the baby helped— she was someone he could focus on, someone who needed him.

"Of course," she said, taking a bite of her eggs. These were delicious... they were almost as good as Matthew's, which was quite the feat.

Before she could tell him so, Tom had squared his shoulders firmly. "I don't want to impose on the two of you longer than I have to. Once I find another job, I'll find a way to pay you back and look for my own place."

"Don't worry about all that now," said Matthew, reaching for his cup of coffee. "Just focus on Sybil and getting back on your feet." He took a sip. "Though if you want to continue expressing your gratitude this way, I won't stop you! This is one of the best meals we've had in ages!"

"Thanks... though I wouldn't say that in front of Mrs. Patmore," said Tom, earning a laugh from Mary when she thought of the family cook.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," said Matthew, chuckling. "I cook most of the time, or we order take out. I'm decent but I'm nowhere near as good as you." Matthew reached for his fork.

"And what about you?" asked Tom, and Mary realized then he was directing his question at her. "Do you cook?"

"I have many talents, but cooking simply isn't one of them," Mary replied primly. "I can scramble eggs but that's about it, I'm afraid." She stole a glance at Matthew, whose lips were twitching. She would give credit where credit was due. "And it's only thanks to Matthew that I even know how to."

"How'd you survive during uni?" Tom questioned.

"Anna. Obviously."

Tom nodded, as if that made sense. "You didn't take advantage of cooking lessons?" He asked. Mary immediately knew he was referring to the weeks Sybil had spent in the kitchen with Mrs. Patmore before leaving for school, determined to learn how to do things properly. The rest she learned from Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper.

"It never occurred to me," Mary said, thinking of the girl she had once been. Mary hated to say it but back in those days, she had been quite a snob. She'd never truly confronted the privilege of her upbringing until she found herself living with Anna Smith, who came from a considerably more modest background. "Edith and I were rather ill prepared. Sybil was smart enough to think ahead." Mary remembered her first incident with the washing machine, humiliated by the overflow of suds in the laundry.

Tom wore a sad smile— the same kind of smile he wore whenever her sister was mentioned. Mary couldn't begin to imagine the pain he felt— she hadn't believed in soulmates until Matthew. Losing him would be like cutting off one of her limbs.

Sensing his melancholy mood, Matthew directed the conversation to his own exploits in uni, forcing them to focus on happier things.

* * *

_August 13, 2012_

Mary opened her eyes, unable to focus on anything. The lights were bright, too bright. People were talking around her but she couldn't understand what they were saying...

"Mrs. Crawley? Are you awake?"

"Mmmgh." She closed her eyes again.

"We'll bring your husband back— it is your husband with you today, isn't it?"

Husband... Matthew... "No," she groaned.

She heard more noises, like typing on a keyboard— it was too loud. "Oh, I see— your brother-in-law. Someone's gone to fetch him now."

A few minutes later, her vision cleared and she was sipping on juice box. A couple pills for the pain had been swallowed already. A package of crackers sat in front of her but Mary wasn't hungry— not now anyway. Tom shuffled into the room.

"How're you feeling?"

Mary shrugged, uncertain how to respond. She was still groggy.

"I spoke to your doctor in the hallway. He says all went well." He offered her a smile. "I texted Matthew, by the way. He's glad... he says again that he wishes he could have been here..."

Mary wished he was here, too. Still, it was pure dumb luck that her surgery had been moved to the day of his big thing at work. At least Tom was here... he wouldn't coddle her, like Mama and Papa... and she was fairly certain he wouldn't take delight in her pain as Edith surely would.

Once she had done all she needed to do, Tom stepped in the hall so the nurses could help her change out of her hospital gown. She winced at the sight of the incisions on her bare stomach, averting her eyes as best as she could as she pulled her clothes back on. Instead of her usual smart looks, Mary had stolen a pair of Matthew's sweatpants and a baggy hoodie from his wardrobe. She had to tighten the drawstring on the former in order to get it to stay up on her slim hips, but it worked and it was infinitely more comfortable on her sensitive abdomen than her regular clothes were.

Tom came back in with Dr. Ryder before she left, who explained everything in more depth. The fibroids had been removed and once her body had healed, he was fairly confident a baby would soon be on the way. They provided her with an ice pack, a prescription for painkillers, and paperwork. Tom signed some papers and soon they were leaving.

"Can you go a little slower?" Mary grimaced as Tom hit a bump in the road, gripping the dashboard. She pushed the ice pack tighter to her stomach, as if the cold would obliterate the pain away.

"Of course. Sorry." Tom slowed down, swerving out of the way of any potholes in the road. "Are you hungry at all? I can swing through some place."

Mary shook her head. "I just want to lie down." She hated admitting to such a thing, seeing it as a weakness, but after living with her and Matthew for two months, they had grown considerably more comfortable in one another's company.

"Understood. We'll just stop to get your medecine, alright?"

Mary waited out in the car, responding to texts on her phone. Papa was near frantic, Mama kept asking for details, and Edith kept asking if she was in pain. Mary ignored her texts entirely, focusing on trying to calm Papa and satisfy Mama's endless questions. Tom arrived ten minutes later, apologizing profusely for the wait. "There was a long line..." before driving back towards Crawley House.

Mary hadn't anticipated steps being a problem until she stepped up on the first one. She winced. The pain meds helped dull the pain, but they didn't do away with it entirely. "Tom," she called out, gripping the banister. "I hate to ask, but do you mind helping me up the stairs?"

He was by her side in an instant. "Of course not." She leaned into him, using most of her energy for lifting up her feet. Mary felt as if she had been through a marathon by the time she reached the first landing. She eyed Tom's bedroom door enviously, wondering if having the biggest bedroom in the house was really worth it before climbing up the remaining stairs to the top floor.

Tom helped her into the bed. "Do you want the blankets on or off?" He asked.

Mary hesitated. "On," she decided, and he drew them up to her chin.

Once he was certain the pillows were arranged as they should be, Tom said, "Right. Anything else I can get you?"

Mary shook her head before changing her mind and saying, "Might I have a glass of water?"

A few minutes later, Tom was back with her drink. "You should go get Sybbie," Mary said, sipping on her drink. Mama had come up with the nickname and it had stuck. "She'll be missing you."

Tom shook his head. "I'll wait until Matthew gets home. I'm pretty sure all those papers I signed all say I'm supposed to stay with you."

Mary leaned back, sighing. He was probably right... "Matthew could always pick her up, couldn't he?"

"He doesn't have a car seat in his car," Tom reminded her, and Mary felt like a fool. God, how was she going to raise a baby? He sat on the edge of the bed, posture far too stiff for the casualness of the gesture. "She'll be okay for a while longer. Besides, it's good for her to spend time with her grandparents." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of it.

Mary didn't blame him. Mama had accepted him by now, truly seeing him as a part of the family... but Papa... well, Papa only seemed to merely tolerate Tom's presence for the sake of Sybbie. Their relationship was far less tumultuous now, the fact they now resided in separate households improving things on that front, but the favoritism towards Matthew was evident. Mary knew he would never admit to it, perhaps not even to himself, but she knew Tom was discouraged by constantly being snubbed by Papa. He was seeking out approval, in some small way, at least for the sake of maintaining a cordial relationship, but Papa had yet to relent in his harshness.

Mary shifted slightly, trying to get a better view of him, but only succeeded in causing another twinge in her stomach. "They do love her, you know," she told him, doing her best to reassure him. Tensions with her father had still been fraught but it hadn't taken long for Papa to warm up to his granddaughter. Like Sybil, it was impossible not to love her baby.

"I do," Tom said, nodding. He was staring at the wall— or perhaps the window on the wall. He seemed a million miles away. "Does— does she look like Sybil? When she was that age?"

Mary closed her eyes. It was hard to remember clearly, when she had only been four years old at the time of her birth, but there were pictures to go by as well. "A little. The curls, for sure. But I think her hair is more your color."

Tom managed a small smile. "Thank you, by the way," she told him.

"It's no problem. It's the least I could do, after all the things you've done for me."

"I truly don't know what I would have done if I had to rely on my family," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Not that you aren't family, of course— because you are— but you don't drive me up the wall."

She heard him laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You jest, but it's high praise from me," Mary said wryly. She stretched one of her legs out, accidentally connecting with him. He didn't flinch away but she moved her foot so it wasn't as close to him.

"Believe me, I know. What was it you called me that one time? _An oily driver_?"

Mary let out a laugh, which only succeeded in making her stomach ache, but did nothing to dissipate her mirth. "That was _Edith_ , not me." She tilted her head up. "I'm rather offended, you know."

Tom laughed. "My apologies, _milady_."

Mary laughed again, this time pressing the ice pack to her stomach for much needed pressure. It struck her then, how strange it was, that she was laughing with her former car mechanic. Before accidentally receiving some salacious texts from Sybil, Mary had only seen him as the Irish mechanic who she entrusted with her Rolls-Royce anytime there was a spot of trouble. Their exchanges has been purely perfunctory and professional... and now he was the man her sister would have married, the father of her niece, her roommate... and now maybe even a friend.

* * *

_July 22, 2014_

It was so unfair that one person could be so adorable. Mary stared down at Sybbie with adoration, entranced by her. Her springy curls were so precious...

"I'll miss her," said Matthew from behind her. He pressed a kiss to the top of Mary's head before joining her on the sofa.

"Don't even talk to me about that," Mary whispered as his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She still hadn't taken her eyes off of her, determined to savor every last moment with her niece. "It's too horrible to bear."

Matthew kissed her cheekbone. "I wish Tom didn't feel like he needed to leave so soon," he said quietly before using Mary's shoulder as a pillow. He was similarly transfixed by Sybbie.

"He's been with us for over a year now," Mary reminded him... and herself.

"You don't want him to go though, do you?"

Mary shook her head. Truthfully, she had grown used to Tom's presence... and she rather liked having him around. They stayed up late many evenings, swapping stories and laughing together. Her and Matthew were well-fed as well, always impressed by his culinary abilities. In fact, they had lived together with Tom longer than they had without him.

"At least the nursery won't be empty long," Matthew said brightly. His other hand came to settle on the swell of her stomach.

Even though she was glad— so, so glad— Mary felt years prickle in her eyes. It made no sense... this moment with the man she loved, her niece she adored, in their dream home and his son in her womb, was as close to perfection as she could imagine. Mary had never known that it was possible for one person to feel so much love. But she couldn't stop the tears from falling. "I don't want it to be empty at all," she managed to choke out before letting out a sob. Matthew's thumb came up to wipe the tears away. "Oh, damn these stupid hormones..."

"Careful," he said, somewhat amused. He had become used to her mood swings. "We'll have to implement the swear jar."

Mary rolled her eyes, even as tears continued to fall. "She's sleeping," Mary sniffled.

"Even so," said Matthew, smirking. "If Tom asks me why his daughter has started cursing, I'll have to rat you out."

"Oh, shut up, you... you sea monster," Mary said with no real malice, giggling slightly. She met Matthew's gaze, a challenge in her eye. "Besides, Tom's far worse than me." She remembered a colorful exclamation the other night when he stubbed his toe on the bottom step that would have made even Thomas blush.

"Not in front of Sybbie, he isn't." He kissed her nose. "He keeps his language cleaner than a priest."

"It's hardly as if you're a saint yourself," Mary smiled, tears already gone now. "What was it you were saying to me late last night?"

His cheeks started to flush. Mary was about to tease him further when she heard the front door open. They could continue their conversation later... though knowing how things usually went around here, it would be _much_ later. It was good that Mary could be patient when she needed to be.

Sybbie's eyes opened. "Dada?" She babbled.

Mary smiled. "That's right. Dada's home," she told her, smiling widely. She glanced over to Matthew. She didn't even want to contemplate standing right now, now with her bulging stomach... "Will you...?"

She didn't even need to finish the question. Matthew picked Sybbie up without another word. "Come along, sweet pea," he said, kissing her forehead. "Let's take you to your Dada, alright?"

Mary smiled after him. She had her doubts, about whether or not she would prove a good mother, but she was confident he would be a good father. _The best father,_ she thought, watching him bounce Sybbie in his arms before taking her out to Tom.

"How was the hunt for the flat?" asked Mary, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice when Tom joined her in the living room, having a seat in one of the plush armchairs. Sybbie was in his lap, reaching for his face. Matthew took his place beside her once more, arm reassuming its place around her shoulder.

"Promising," said Tom, grinning. "I think I've found a place in York."

"But that's so far away," Mary found herself lamenting.

"Not that far," insisted Tom. "And it will be close to the paper."

"What's it like?" Matthew asked, trying to remain diplomatic.

Mary barely heard what Tom said, only gathering it was a sizable place with two rooms. "But who will look after Sybbie?" she questioned once he was finished.

"There's a daycare nearby... and Cora has already offered to drive over everyday to watch her." He smiled. "So I'll have options."

Matthew beamed. "Well, we're pleased for you. Both of us." He squeezed Mary's shoulders ever so slightly, as if to remind her. "Though I hope you know we'll both miss you."

"I should think you'd be looking forward to having some of your privacy back," joked Tom. Still, he smiled before adding, "And don't fret just yet. We'll impose a little longer, I'm afraid. The landlord is doing some renovations in the kitchen and it'll at least be a month before it'll be ready to move into."

"In that case, I'm fairly certain you'll be the one pleased to get rid of us," said Mary, grinning. Her hand fell to her stomach. "You'll have to put up with a crying baby for a while."

"He'll be nothing compared to Sybbie, I imagine," Tom said with a laugh.

* * *

_August 21, 2014_

The pain was unbearable.

"You must remember to breathe, Mary—"

Mary grit her teeth. Where was Matthew?

"You're doing very well, Mrs. Crawley."

So many voices... but not the one she wanted. Not even Anna, with her dulcet, "You're doing well, Mary, it won't be much longer," was able to soothe her.

When Matthew burst in through the doors, her agony vanished for a nanosecond. Windswept hair, rosy cheeks, still in his suit... "I'm so sorry, my darling, I came as quickly as I could," he said, breathless as he reached her side. Anna was already excusing herself, Isobel asking if she ought to stay or not... but all Mary could focus on was him.

Forty five minutes later, Mary was cradling the most perfect human. Ten fingers, ten toes, a head of dark hair. "Our little prince," Matthew whispered, staring down at him in adoration.

 _George Reginald Crawley._ Mary traced the soft skin of his cheek with her finger. "I've never been this happy before in my life," she whispered, not daring to look away from him. She had worried for months that motherhood wasn't for her...

"Nor I." He kissed her temple reverently. "I'm so, _so_ proud of you."

Mary twisted her head so that she could lean forward and kiss him. She had never loved him so much... all their most memorable moments seemed to pale in comparison to this. They had a _family_ , a baby of their own.

"I haven't dared check my phone yet," whispered Mary, not wanting to disturb George. "What's everyone saying?"

Matthew fished his phone out of his pocket. "Shrimpie and Susan send their congratulations," he said, scrolling through the messages. "Rose is wondering if we named the baby after her... but she says she's only joking."

Mary rolled her eyes. Typical Rose.

"Tom's asking how you are." Matthew typed for a couple seconds. "Poor chap. He must be terrified out of his wits."

"He was, rather," said Mary, thinking of the moment she realized she was going into labor. The whole family (save for Tom) had been invited to a garden party at their cousins, the MacClares. Mary was so close to her due date she didn't dare to go, but had insisted Matthew put in an appearance. She had never dreamed she would go into labor while at home with Tom— his shock at her water bursting on the kitchen floor would have been humorous had it not sent him into an honest to God panic attack. He was in no state to drive, meaning Mary had called Anna to drive her to the hospital. Isobel was called to ensure Tom was alright and once she had ascertained he was, she had joined Mary and Anna at the hospital as Matthew battled traffic.

"Robert and Cora are wondering when they should come," read Matthew.

Mary bit back a sigh. "I suppose we ought to just bite the bullet."

"Alright. I'll let them know." He texted them back.

Fifteen minutes passed in admiring their son before Matthew asked, "Darling, would you think me terribly rude if I were to go home? I want to change into some more comfortable clothes for the night—"

"And check on Tom?"

Matthew smiled sheepishly. "Yes," he admitted. "I'm worried about him."

"I don't blame you," she said softly. She had never seen anyone so panicked in their lives. It had been startling, to realize she was the level headed one as Tom wept on the kitchen floor while she dialed Anna. "You can bring him too, you know. I'm sure he'd like to see the baby... and Sybbie could meet her new roommate."

Matthew laughed before leaning down to kiss her. "Sounds like a plan." He paused, meeting her eye. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Mary breathed. Even after eight years of loving him, he never failed to take her breath away when he uttered those three words.

Matthew smiled at her. "I can't imagine my life without you," he told her honestly, misty eyed. "You— you are my life. And I'm so glad I insulted you that first day in class—"

Mary let out a laugh before leaning in to kiss him, trying to stop herself from crying as well. "Who would have thought those two bickering children would grow up and have a baby?" she whispered back.

"Not me," admitted Matthew. "But— you've made me so happy. I never dreamed I could feel so much love."

Mary smiled widely, unashamed to let him see it. For so many years, she had hidden her real self away, determined to let everyone see the version of her that she wanted in the world. But Matthew loved her for who she was— her strengths, her flaws, her triumphs, her mistakes. "Nor I," she whispered back, letting him kiss her again and again.

They parted with shaky, bashful giggles. "I really need to go," he insisted. "If I stay a second longer, I'll be stuck here forever."

"I wish you would," said Mary coyly, though she was only half joking.

Matthew smiled adoringly. "It won't take long," he said, walking to the door to put distance between them. "I love you both and I'll be back before you can even miss me."

"Love you," Mary called out as he stepped out, their eyes locking before he vanished from sight.

Isobel reentered the room a short while later, smiling. "I hope you don't mind I've returned," she said quietly, "but Matthew's just told me the plan and I wanted a chance to see George again before I pop home for the night."

"Of course," said Mary. "He's your grandson."

Just then, George's eyes opened. Bright blue, as all baby's eyes were. His mouth opened up as he let out a cry. "He might be hungry," Isobel suggested as Mary stared down at him in simultaneous fascination and terror. "Have you managed to nurse him yet?"

"I did, earlier," said Mary, trying to maneuver her gown to assist him. Isobel, ever the professional, helped her and even managed to help guide him so he would latch on. For maybe the millionth time that day, Mary was grateful to have her as a mother-in-law. Though she had her moments where she could be overbearing, Isobel truly would do whatever she could to help.

"Matthew told me his middle name is going to be Reginald," said Isobel a minute of two after George began nursing. "I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear it."

"We thought it was only right. We want to honor him, in some way—" Mary paused once Isobel's phone began ringing.

The older woman frowned. She wasn't known for being the most technologically savvy, though she was leaps and bounds better than Granny... but then again that wasn't saying much. "I don't know this number," she said with a frown, squinting at the phone.

"It might be a scam call. You won't believe how many I receive," Mary told her.

"I think I'll answer it. Just in case. It might be a relative, wondering about you and the baby." The phone continued to ring and Isobel beamed at her. "I'll take it out into the hall. I'll be back in a minute or two."

But she wasn't back in a minute or two. George has his fill and Mary did her best to bring her gown back up to keep her breast from remaining exposed to the cool hospital air. She supposed it must be a relative, given how long it took. She didn't mind; it gave her a chance to be alone with her son.

Fifteen minutes passed. George was fussing. Mary wondered if it was his diaper... but she wasn't supposed to rise from the bed. She was about to ring for the nurses when Papa burst through the doors, a helium balloon in hand proclaiming _It's A Boy!_

"Thank God you're here," breathed Mary. "Do you mind fetching a nurse for me? Only I think George needs his diaper changed and I can't seem to get out of bed."

"Mary," Papa said, almost ignoring her. "I'm afraid I've some bad news." He paused. "No. Not bad. Terrible."

It was then Mary realized how awful her father looked. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed he had been through a war. There was a haunted look in his eye.

It hit Mary suddenly. _Tom. "_ Oh, God." They shouldn't have left him alone at the house...

"I'm so sorry," Papa was choked up. "I— I don't know if I can bring myself to say it... It's Matthew."

Mary felt as if a steamroller had gone over her. George was wailing now, demanding attention, but his mother was preoccupied. "What's happened?" Her voice was a million miles away.

"He... he was driving home. And there was this driver... they don't know if he was drunk yet or just on his bloody phone... there was a horrible crash..."

Mary's heart sank. Suddenly she didn't care about her instructions. "Where is he?" She was rising to her feet already, heart pounding in her chest. Papa took a couple steps forward, trying to urge her to stay in the bed but she was up in an instant, holding George close to her. "I need to see him!"

"Mary, he's gone!" Papa was weeping now.

"No!" That wasn't possible... he had just been here, he was with her... "You're lying!"

"I wish I was. He's gone, my dear girl, I'm so sorry—"

She could process it. _Matthew was gone._ Any moment she would wake up... he would be by her side, smiling and laughing and kissing her... he wasn't gone, he couldn't be, he wasn't dead...

But then it hit Mary like a ton of bricks.

Papa let go of the helium balloon. It drifted to the ceiling, making a soft crunching noise as it contacted.

And she screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! This chapter is one of the saddest ones in the fic but I promise things will improve for Mary (and Tom) soon!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Two**

_August 28, 2013_

Papa was here. She could hear his voice drifting up from the kitchen. The bedroom door was wide open, the sound clear as a bell.

At first, it was banal pleasantries. _How are you holding up?_ and _It's such a sunny day. What a shame._ All as if _they_ were the ones who had lost their husband.

Mary felt a stab of guilt. It wasn't fair, really, to lump Tom in with that crowd. Unlike the rest of her family, he hadn't treated her as if she were made of glass... if anything, Mary felt like a solid piece of lead, immovable and unrelenting. If someone were to drop her to the ground, she wouldn't shattered into a million tiny pieces but would instead fall with full thud and not react in the slightest.

The conversation between the two men downstairs shifted quite quickly. "Cora and I have been thinking and we think it might be best if Mary and the baby were to move in with us at Downton. I think it'd be easier on us all..."

"I understand where you are coming from. Really, I do. Sybbie might only be a year old but I know I'd do anything for her." Mary imagined they were they sharing a smile. Ever since the triumphant cricket match a year ago, Papa had taken a liking to Tom. Mary had thought it was unfair that learning cricket and hitting the ball was the price Tom had to pay in order to be properly accepted, but she was at least pleased that it had happened. "But I honestly don't think Mary would be able to handle a move right now."

"It would only be to her old bedroom," Papa insisted. "And the baby—"

"Mary hasn't been able to really look after George," Tom cut in.

"All the more reason to come to Downton. Someone can look after the both. We could even hire someone, if we had to—"

"I've been able to do that myself so far. And like I said, I don't think Mary can handle a move at present. She's overwhelmed as it is with... with everything." Tom clearly couldn't bring himself to say it. "Uprooting her now would only add to her struggles."

"So what are you proposing?"

"Mary and the baby will stay here, in their home, and I'll look after them."

"Tom... please don't think that I believe your intentions aren't admirable... but what about when you return to work? Do you really intend on leaving the children alone with Mary? I don't really think that's a safe option, do you?"

She tried not to take offense. Really, she did. After all, she was just laying here instead of marching down the stairs and refusing to leave her home. Tom was fighting her battle on her behalf. The most she was able to do each day was hold George, feed him, and then put him down to sleep. She hadn't even changed a single diaper... all those parenting classes had been money flushed down the metaphorical toilet, considering Matthew would never use the skills learned and Mary wasn't using them at all.

"I won't be returning to work."

" _What_?" Papa said, in that flabbergasted tone.

"I've already handed in my resignation— I did it yesterday."

"But you loved working at the paper!"

"I did. But I love the children and Mary more. And they need my help, so..." She imagined her was shrugging. "I can do freelance things, if I have the time. Until then, the house is paid for. We'll have enough money between the two of us for utilities and whatnot."

"I see." Papa paused. "You're sure it won't be too much for you?"

"I'm not pretending it'll be easy. I'm sure it's going to be very hard. But I've done well enough so far..."

"Of course you have. Right. Well, that's all I came here for..."

"Do you want to see Mary? Or George?"

"I think not. I don't wish to disturb them. But Cora and I are willing to help in anyway we can."

"Thanks, Robert. I'm sure I'll take you up on that at some point."

They exchanged goodbyes and Mary rolled over onto her back. Truthfully, she didn't know how to feel. She hadn't wanted Tom or Sybbie to leave... but at the same time, this seemed an especially cruel price to pay in order to keep them here.

She wouldn't cry. Not now. She had cried enough last week in the hospital, at the funeral, when she had first seen their empty bed and realized that Matthew would never join her there again...

Some minutes passed by before Mary heard Tom climb up the stairs. It was an old house and they creaked and groaned with each step he took. He appeared at her bedroom door a minute later. "That was your father. He—"

"I know. I heard."

Tom nodded. He stepped into the room. "Can I get you anything? Some food, a drink?"

She shook her head.

"Well, I'll start dinner soon. I'll bring you up some of that."

"Thanks." Mary waited a moment or two before asking, "What about the flat? In York?"

"I turned it down," Tom said with a shrug.

"'m sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't the right time to move."

"You don't have to baby me. I'm fine." It was a lie but even at her lowest, Mary couldn't bear to be pitied.

"I wasn't under the impression I was babying you. I thought I was helping out a friend, just like she helped me."

Truthfully, Mary had always thought Matthew was the one to do most of the helping. She had just been there...

"But honestly— if you feel like I'm smothering you, tell me to knock it off. I know you hate it. And I'm trying to be a help, not a hinderance."

Mary was surprised that he knew so much about her, really. She was fond of Tom and they had swapped some stories whilst tipsy in the late evenings, but in some ways, she felt like she didn't know him. She considered him a friend, of course, and she had picked up on some of his idiosyncrasies by virtue of living with him, but in the bigger picture, Tom Branson was still a mystery to her in many ways.

"Don't worry," she told him flatly. "I won't hesitate."

In spite of everything, he laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I know you won't."

* * *

_September 2, 2013_

"Anna will be here soon."

Mary stared at the wall. It was color somewhere between blue and grey, like the sea at dusk. Her and Matthew had picked it out... she saw the white frame of their wedding photo in the periphery of her vision.

"Okay."

"She's coming to help you take a shower."

"I know how to take a shower."

"But you haven't done it." His voice was gentle— far too gentle. "It's been a five days since you last had one."

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes but she didn't let them fall. She felt like shit. "Fine. So I guess I don't know how to take care of myself anymore."

"It'll make you feel better. I promise." She felt the bed dip. "It was hard for me, too. Doing the simple things. But I always felt better once they were done."

Mary said nothing, blinking rapidly. She wouldn't cry. Tom stayed with her until there was a faint knocking at the door, at which point he rose. "It's Anna," he told her needlessly. He left the room.

A minute or so later, she heard Anna's soft footsteps. After living together nearly three years, Mary could identify her friend by her footsteps alone. "Mary, it's me."

"Hi." Mary wanted to move. She wanted to turn her head and at least force a smile but she couldn't. The energy wasn't there.

With minimal reluctance, Mary let Anna held her out of the bed and into the bathroom. She affirmed the temperature for the water was right and was able to strip out of Matthew's clothes. She tried not to be embarrassed by the food stains on the front, but she was regardless. Mary didn't make eye contact with Anna, not even when her friend helped her into the steaming shower. Mary was normally embarrassed by nudity, but the depression dulled her inhibitions and Anna had helped her shower in uni after Mary had imbibed too much and vomited all over herself.

Mary had never been more grateful for the shower chair— well, it was more of a bench, really. After Matthew's back injury during a match of rugby, he sometimes found it hard to stand for too long and they had installed it for him when they renovated the house. Now she could sit in the walk in shower as Anna, who stood outside the shower for the most part, handed her a wash cloth with soap on it.

Anna talked about everything and nothing, able to distract Mary somewhat She told Mary about the progress on her new house, about the garden John was planting, how they were thinking of getting a puppy. "You ought to ask Papa about his latest litter," Mary told her, staring straight ahead. "I'm sure he'd give you one." Since retiring, he had taken up dog breeding. He was rather proud of them... her and Matthew had talked about taking one of them.

"It's okay. We're thinking of adopting from a shelter, anyway. So maybe we won't have a puppy, but..."

Mary nodded. "How's the book coming along?" She asked tonelesslg, trying to keep the conversation running. Anna had quit her job at the nursing home a few months ago in order to pursue a career as a mystery novelist.

"Fairly well, I'd say." She stopped briefly to ask Mary if she needed help with the shampoo. After Mary hesitated, Anna reached in, turning the water off. After working the shampoo into Mary's hair, she turned the water back on, explaining, "Back to what we were saying— I need to finish up fixing the last couple of chapters then I can send it in to my editor."

"Marvelous," murmured Mary as genuinely as she could manage, eyes closed as the shampoo ran down her hair and her face.

When all was said and done and she had changed into a pair of silk pajamas, Anna began gathering up her things. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for a cup of tea?" asked Mary as she climbed back under the covers of her bed, thinking it was terribly rude to submit Anna to such a task and let her go without any hospitality.

"I had better not," she said apologetically. "John's waiting for me and I need to get back to work. The book won't write itself, which is a pity."

Mary felt stupid. Anna's life didn't revolve around her— "Of course you do." They exchanged goodbyes, and just before her friend left the room, Mary managed to say, "And Anna? Thank you."

Anna gave her a warm, sympathetic smile before leaving.

* * *

_October 31, 2013_

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Tom asked, throwing his coat on over his shoulders. Mary was slumped over in the armchair, phone in her lap, not bothering to look at it. "It might do you some good, to go out and take a walk."

"Someone needs to pass out the sweets for the children."

"We can leave it in a bowl on the porch," insisted Tom. When she didn't say anything, he said, "George would love for you to come."

"George doesn't care what I do, Tom," said Mary wearily. "He's three months old."

He frowned. "You know that's not true, don't you?" When Mary said nothing, he said, "You're the most important person in the world to him. You're all he's got."

Mary blinked. "He's got you... and you're the one who actually takes care of him. All I'm good for is food."

Tom was steadily growing more and more frustrated. "It's his first Halloween. I think you should be present for it." When Mary said nothing, Tom walked out of the room, tossed her coat onto her lap. "You're coming with us."

Mary wanted to protest but truthfully she had no energy. She woodenly tugged the coat on and followed Tom out the door. Belatedly, she realized they were matching— they were both wearing beige trenchcoats. Perhaps the neighbors would think they were dressed as detectives. If only she had deerstalker and a magnifying glass...

In the end, Mary was pleased she went... or as pleased as she was able to be, all things considered. As usual, not many other people were out, simply small families like themselves with young children. Sybbie was able to toddle to the doorsteps in her Winnie the Pooh costume and say "T'ick or T'eat!" and hold out her bag, whereas Tom had to lift George out of the pram and ask for him. Mary wondered why Tom had dressed him as a pumpkin— and then she wondered why she hadn't picked out a costume herself. After all, she was supposed to be his mother.

When they finally arrived home, the bowl of candy was empty and Mary's cheeks were cold, but the fresh air had made her feel rather revitalized. She found herself picking George up out of the pram, carrying her now sleeping baby up the stairs to his room, ignoring the wide grin on Tom's face.

George woke up as Mary began taking off the Velcro pumpkin costume. "It's alright," Mary whispered for him, hoping he wouldn't cry. "It's just me." She paused, helping his arms out of the holes. "It's just Mama."

She essentially was on autopilot as she changed his diaper and dressed him in his pajamas. He didn't squirm much or put up a fuss, simply watching her. Mary felt as if she was an onlooker into her own life, watching herself actually care for her son.

 _Her son._ Already she saw so much of Matthew in him, but there was a great deal of her as well. He had her fine, dark hair, for a start... though she hoped it would lighten as he grew older. She suspected he would pick up her idiosyncrasies and mercurial moods and imitate them until they become a facets of himself. She tried to ignore the fact he would never know how Matthew sounded when he laughed or be able to taste his cooking or play football with him in the backyard...

She pushed the melancholia away. "It's time for bed now," said Mary, lifting him up off of his changing table. George gurgled. "Do you need to eat before you go to bed?"

When Tom arrived upstairs with Sybbie, Mary had to hastily reach for the quilt underneath her to cover up. "Don't do that," Tom said, spinning around immediately. "I won't look if it makes you uncomfortable."

Mary hesitated before letting the quilt drop. "He'll be done in a minute," she assured him, staring down at his heavy eyelids. "He's about to fall asleep."

Once George's eyes fell shut, he unlatched himself from Mary. She held him with one arm, covering herself back up. "Can you hand me his pacifier?"

"Sure." Tom bounced Sybbie in his arms, reaching for a pacifier.

When Mary realized he was still angling his head away from her as he backed up, pacifier waving around, she clarified, "You can look now."

Tom turned around, looking a little relieved. "She's about ready for bed," he explained needlessly.

"Do you need any help?" Mary asked, putting the pacifier in George's mouth and steadily rising. He was still fast asleep when she lowered him into his crib.

"You can pick out a pair of pajamas for her to wear," said Tom, taking Sybbie over to the changing table.

It was silly, really... a grown woman getting so excited about picking out some clothes for her niece. Nevertheless, Mary was delighted to notice the new additions to her wardrobe. "You've been shopping," said Mary. She was surprised she hadn't noticed.

Tom laughed. "Not really. Rose did it for me."

She arched an eyebrow, even though Tom couldn't see her. Rose was studying in York, living with Mary's parents during the summer holidays instead of joining her parents in India. Shrimpie was a diplomat who had been stationed all over the world, but his daughter needed a stable home base as he flitted around the world. "Is that a wise idea, giving a nineteen year old baby fever?"

"She volunteered for it! I'd say she's got baby fever already."

Mary hummed. It seemed so strange... she had been here all this time and yet it was so easily to let everything pass her by. She had lucid moments, when Tom brought George into her room and informed her that he was hungry or when she awoke clutching a pillow instead of Matthew. The rest was mindless, grey blur— staring down at well meaning texts from friends and family and reminding herself to reply later, watching sitcoms without paying any attention to the plot, lounging around between her bed and the couch when she grew too tired. She only remembered to eat whenever Tom thrust a plate of food under her nose.

This was one of those lucid moments, when she was aware of the surroundings and the people around her. She hoped she wouldn't slip back into her shadowy existence, able soak this in as long as she could.

When Sybbie was placed in her crib and ready to fall asleep, Mary held the door open for Tom. "Going to bed?" He asked.

Mary hesitated. She had planned on it... "Is there anything else to do?"

"Eat George and Sybbie's sweets."

She blinked. "That seems rather unfair, when it's theirs."

"George can't eat solid food and Sybbie doesn't need the sugar. The window allowing us to take as much as we want will close soon... so we might as well seize it," said Tom, his words a temptation to her.

Mary pondered it. She wanted to go to bed, to go to sleep... but the allure of chocolate was too enticing. "Very well," she said wearily, following him down the stairs. "But only if you promise not to tell Edith." Tom turned around, frowning, which lead Mary to elaborate, "If she found out I literally stole candy from a baby, she would never let it go."

Tom let out a loud laugh.

* * *

_November 2013_

Somehow, in spite of everything, Tom still managed to find enough time in the day to tend two babies, cook three meals, do household chores, and look after Mary and make sure she was eating and managing her personal hygiene.

Gone were her fashionable clothes (not literally— Mary had some vintage Chanel that she would never dare part with); she had no desire to dress up anymore. What was the point? The only people who really ever saw her anymore were Tom, Sybbie, and George. Her parents would stop over, of course, and sometimes Anna, Isobel, and her grandmother— Edith only ever seemed to come when she felt guilty. All in all, it was a small pool of people and she felt no need to impress any of them. So Mary wore no make-up, simply adorning herself in gym clothes...

One of the few things that made her happier was wearing Matthew's clothes. They still smelled of him— it wasn't just the laundry detergent, but his scent permeated through the fabric. If she hugged a pillow and tried not to think too deeply, she could pretend he was lying beside her...

But as Christmas approached, Tom sat next to Mary on the couch as _Coronation Street_ played, a cloth on his shoulder with spit up on it. "Isobel called me yesterday," he said, perfectly casual. When Mary said nothing, he said, "She's found herself a charity to work with. I think it's doing her some good. It helps her take her mind off things..."

Mary wondered what she was getting at, but she wasn't going to ask. If he wanted her to return to her job, she was afraid he was sorely mistaken. There was no way she could return to her office— it was full of history. Living in the same house where they had begun their married life was hard enough without the complication of yet another space to the equation. If she stepped foot in there, Mary knew she would be confronted with an onslaughts of memories. It was the place where they had shared their first kiss, the place where they had lunch dates on his days off... her desk, where Matthew had jokingly suggested George may have been conceived.

Thomas was running things now in her stead— well, him, her father, and Carson were working together. Had she more energy, she would have been embarrassed that both her father and Carson has come out of retirement, but she knew things were getting taken care of. Thomas was a hard worker and had become a dear friend (though she would only admit it under great reluctance), but he also didn't have the experience needed to carry Downton on his own. She was sure he hated it; he and Carson had always butted heads, but the estate came before petty vendettas.

"With the holidays coming up, they're looking for donations," Tom finally said.

"I can write a check," she said tonelessly. "How much does she want?"

He shook his head. "Not those kinds of donations. Things. Toys for children, toiletries... clothes."

Mary understood immediately. Her head snapped over to face him. "No."

Tom let out a sigh through his nose. "Not everything," he said, in a tone that sounded perfectly reasonable. "I agree. I notice you've been wearing some of them. But— it's time to start letting some things go. Like his suits." Before Mary could protest again, he said, "I already agreed to give her some of Sybil's things. And I'd like you there. For moral support, if nothing else. And I'll help you, too."

Mary wasn't looking at him. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her. Maybe he was ready to part with some of Sybil's old clothes, but she wasn't ready to give away Matthew's.

Nevertheless, she found herself at a storage shed two days later, wearing jeans for the first time in weeks with an oversized black hoodie pulled over her head. George and Sybbie were enjoying a day with their grandparents and Tom was kneeling on a concrete floor, opening a tote. "D'you mind pushing the box closer?"

Mary nudged it with her foot towards him as Tom lifted a pale pink dress out of the tote. It was wrinkled, having been wadded up and thrown in with little care. Mary suspected it had been packed in there when he moved in with her and Matthew— he probably had been too sick with grief to look at them for too long.

"If— if you want any of them, feel free," said Tom after he threw one of Sybil's red flannel shirts in the box, voice wavering only slightly. "She— she was your sister. If you want something to remember her by—"

Mary lifted up the flannel. It had been one of Sybil's favorites— she was tempted. Sorely. But she put it down. "I doubt any of it would fit me," said Mary, more to herself than Tom. Sybil had a more voluptuous than Mary, something she had been envious about when she was younger. While Mary was confident, she could pull it off, it was for charity. Someone might need it. There was enough other things to remember her by.

Tom nodded, adding a pair of her black, ripped skinny jeans to the box. "Do you think Edith would like to have a look through?" he asked.

"Maybe." Then, Mary added, "I'll text her."

"Thanks."

It was a quiet affair— Tom adding clothes, Mary standing and watching dispassionately. Both of them knew if they uttered another word, they would likely cry.

Mary's own experience was a more emotional— the tears had come almost immediately. It took them both by surprise— Tom was, historically, more willing to showcase his emotions. Mary bottled all her feelings up until there was an explosion. But these days, she felt as if she cried at the drop of a hat. She was sick of it, but it didn't stop her. "I bought him this. For his birthday," she warbled, holding up a blue tie. "To match his eyes."

"You don't have to get rid of it," Tom reminded her. He hadn't gotten rid of all of Sybil's things— certain items had been left in mostly empty totes with no explanation provided or demanded. "You can keep it."

Mary only cried harder, tears running down her eyes and snot leaking out of her nose. The tie fell to the floor and Tom hugged her.

* * *

_January 1, 2014_

The sunlight peeked in through the blinds, rousing Mary from sleep. Her head pounded as she sat up on the couch, staring at Tom's profile. His head was tilted back, still asleep. Her legs were on his lap.

Memories from last night slowly came back to her. The half empty bottle of vodka sat on the coffee table, as did the ugly antique vase full of Tom's vomit. Mary winced as she swung her legs off Tom's lap, picking up the vase and not inhaling through her nose.

It was almost too serene and peaceful outside when she stepped outside. There was a thin layer of snow that crunched beneath her feet as she walked to the dumpster. Mary very strategically arranged the vase so nothing would spill out before walking back inside.

When she reentered the living room after kicking off her boots, Tom was still asleep. She wondered if she ought to wake him or not... Last night had been tough for them both.

More memories flittered in. Providing comfort didn't come any more naturally when she was drunk than when she was sober. She felt powerless watching Tom break down, more aware than ever before that her rock in all of this was as broken-hearted and as vulnerable as she was; the only difference between them is that he had endured living without the love of his life longer than Mary.

"It's not okay!" He has sobbed when Mary began reciting mindless platitudes. "It's not okay..."

It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that Sybil was gone, when she should be alive. It wasn't okay that Matthew hadn't been able to celebrate Christmas with her and George. It wasn't okay that the two of them were left all alone, dropping their children off with her parents for the night so they could try to numb the pain with alcohol.

Mary studied the angle he was sleeping at again before deciding to wake him. His neck would be sore...

After a quick trip to the kitchen to find some pain meds and a glass of water, Mary returned to the living room shook him awake. When his eyes fluttered open, his palm met his face and as he groaned, "What time is it?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly before shoving the glass into his hand. He accepted it and the medicine willingly. "But we should probably go up to our own beds so we can have some proper rest before getting the children."

Tom nodded, wincing. "I'm sorry about last night," he said, evidently embarrassed.

"Don't be." Mary met his gaze. "You've seen me fall apart dozens of times this last month alone. I think you're more than entitled to let it all out." If anything, Mary felt guilty that such a thing hadn't happened earlier. Tending to her and two babies was an extraordinary amount of stress for one person to be under. Mary felt like such a burden, especially when Tom was already enduring so much without her to add to his complications.

Tom swallowed the medicine down, still looking ill. "Thanks," he said, meeting her gaze.

"It's no problem."

"I mean it." He reaches out, taking her hand in his home. The sensation felt foreign, even though their general physical proximity had only increased since they had started living together. "Thank you. I— I don't know what I would do without you."

"I should be the one saying that."

"It's a good thing we have each other, I suppose," Tom relented, squeezing her hand. He wasn't looking at her anymore, an unfocused look in his eye as he stared at the wall. "As shitty as this is... It's nice to have someone who understands."

Mary said nothing but agreed nonetheless. Only Granny and Isobel came close to knowing the depths of their grief, having lost their spouses as well, but they at least had known it was coming. Reginald had passed away from cancer when Matthew was young, Grandpapa dying from a bout of pneumonia he couldn't shake in his old age and frail condition. They had at least been able to prepared themselves so they could cushion the blow— but neither Mary nor Tom had been allowed such a luxury. Instead, they'd been taken by surprise with a baby who needed someone to look after them.

In some ways, all of this was more tragic for Tom. Mary had at least been granted the memory of a wedding day, the white gown and the ceremony and the reception and all of that. There were pictures and rings and guestbooks... but Tom had never been given that. She was certain, after he had tearfully told her, that it was one of his biggest regrets in life, not being able to marry Sybil.

"I won't ever get married," he had insisted, words hard to understand.

"Maybe you will," Mary had said, mind far away from her. At this point she had been simply uttering all those meaningless phrases one said when no one knew what to say.

"No— I'm never going to marry anyone else. Ever." His words had shocked Mary, causing her to actually look at him. "I was only ever going to marry her. So I'm not going to do that with anyone anymore."

She had been rendered silent, knowing words wouldn't be enough to comfort him now. "I feel that way, too," she finally admitted after a lengthy pause. "But I try not to make sweeping statements like that. I only end up breaking them."

"Well, I won't. I mean it," Tom insisted. Then, "Oh, God, I'm going to be sick."

Now as they sat in their sunlit living room, the Christmas tree still in the corner, holding one another's hands. As much as Mary knew it was time to let go and depart for her room, this small comfort was enough to keep her rooted to the spot for another ten minutes.

* * *

_February 14, 2014_

_EDITH: can't wait to see you xxx miss you so much babe! love you lots_ 💕💕

_MARY: Edith what the actual fuck_

_EDITH: Sorry! I didn't mean to send that to you!_

Mary checked the date. Of course... it was Valentine's Day. She rolled over on her back, stretching out across her empty bed.

_Mary: Please don't ever send me a text like this ever again 🤮_

_EDITH: Don't worry. Duly noted_

Mary wondered why it was she was always the unfortunate receiver of texts meant for her sister's boyfriends. In this case, Mary supposed that her name could easily be confused with Michael's, but she was still confounded as to how a text meant for Tom had ever been sent to her.

Tom was downstairs already when she finally went downstairs, dressed Matthew's rugby jersey and a pair of sweatpants. It hung on her like a loose tent but it was comfortable. "Morning," he said, jumping up to pour her a cup of coffee.

"Morning." She reached for the paper. She didn't actually read it— mainly, she just scanned the headlines. Unable to resist, she said, "I had the strangest text from Edith."

"Oh?"

Mary didn't smile but her lips twitched. "She says she misses me and can't wait to see me."

Tom spun around, eyes wide. "Are we talking about the same Edith?"

"The very same."

"Well, that's awfully sweet of her." Mary could tell that by his tone he approved wholeheartedly. He poured her coffee into the mug, before carrying it over to the table.

She decided to wait until he had sat the scalding cup of coffee down before traveling the next bit. "Yes," said Mary. "It's a shame she meant to send it to Michael."

Tom was silent before bursting into raucous laughter. Mary joined in, although with significantly less enthusiasm. "Poor Edith," he said, reciting the age old family mantra— well, it was at least as old as Edith.

"Poor Edith? Poor me! I woke up to quite a shock!" Tom continued to laugh, and Mary had to stifle her laughter so she could say, "I think I must be cursed. This is the second time I've received a text from one of my sisters meant for their boyfriends." She narrowed her eyes at him.

Tom had the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed at that. "You're right. Poor Mary." He sipped his own coffee. "But be honest— which was more shocking, a risqué text from Sybil meant for me or an " _I miss you_ " text from Edith?"

"Edith's," said Mary in a deadpan as Tom roared with laughter again. "She sent me _heart emojis_."

"You're going to tease her relentlessly, aren't you?"

"Oh no. I want to forget it happened as soon as possible," said Mary, crossing her legs. "I just thought you'd get a laugh out of it. Someone ought to."

Tom chuckled again. He paused before asking, "What did Sybil send you again?"

Mary flushed, briefly recalling the contents of that ill fated text. "Something not appropriate for the breakfast table or the ears of the children." She glanced at George and Sybbie, who were seated in their high chairs, eating dry cereal and crackers.

Tom burst into laughter yet again, the sound of it causing her lips to twitch upwards. At least someone was having fun this morning. She leaned back in her chair and asked, "How long had the two of you been together?"

Tom shrugged when he calmed down, a lazy thing with not much thought behind it. "A month or two."

Mary contemplated that. There had been an air of mystery surrounding Tom and Sybil's early relationship. Mary suspected it was mainly because it was her first adult relationship, something she didn't want Mama and Papa sticking their nose into. After witnessing their prying into Mary's relationships with Evelyn and Matthew, it was hardly any wonder.

"She never told me how the two of you met," said Mary, leaning forward and reaching for her cup of coffee.

Tom's lips twitched. "I'm not surprised." He looked almost proud, he said, "Officially, we met when you came to pick up your car from the shop once... but we didn't really speak then. Unofficially, we met during community service."

Mary almost dropped her mug, succeeding in spilling coffee on the table. Tom stifled laughter as he said, "Here, let me help," whilst Mary sputtered, aghast. Community service?

Tom left the table briefly, returning with paper towels to wipe up the mess. Before he could say anything, she managed to ask, "Community service?"

"Yes." Tom was clearly amused. He handed the paper towel to her, smirking as she practically ripped it from his hands, mopping up the mess.

"Why were you— what did you do?"

"I'm shocked you want to know what I did instead of what Sybil did to warrant it," replied Tom, looking as though he was going to laugh.

 _Sybil isn't here for me to yell at,_ thought Mary, but thankfully didn't say it. It would surely destroy the pleasant mood they had created. Tom's eyes were finally alive, smiling and laughing without reservation. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be asking in a moment. Now what did you do?"

Tom shrugged. "Nothing major. Public intoxication." When Mary made a face, he explained, "I met up with some mates from uni and got a little carried away. I tried to climb on a statue."

"A statue?"

"Yes," said Tom, laughing. "I was going to pose on his shoulders and my friend would take picture... but we never got that far because the police appeared and saw me."

Mary bit the inside of her lip, trying to imagine Tom in such a disorderly state that he would try to do such a thing. Granted, he had been drunk at New Year's and before they had crossed that point of no return and started feeling miserable, they had been having fun... but not climbing statues fun.

"So... what did Sybil do?"

"Vandalizing public property." Tom was grinning, eyes far away. "She spray painted a rude phrase about some ghastly politician on the side of a building and got caught. We actually cleaned it off together."

It was strange, hearing him speak of it with that trace of nostalgia, as if it were something terribly romantic... but Mary supposed it was. While it was hardly her idea of romance, she knew the two of them had been happy in the all too short time they spent together.

"She never told me," said Mary, astonished.

Tom shook her head. "She didn't want to disappoint you. Anyone in your family, really." He smirked. "Matthew and Isobel knew, though."

"They did?"

"Matthew was the one who bailed her out. Isobel let her spend the night at her place."

Mary blinked. Matthew had never said... but knowing him and his sense of nobility, he has probably decided that it wasn't his secret to tell.

Thinking of him, today of all days, made her feel pensive. She missed him so much...

"Thank you," said Mary, staring down at her cuticles. "For sharing that with me."

Tom managed another smile. "It's good to talk about her," he admitted, glancing at Sybbie. "I loved her. I still love her," he corrected. "And one day, Sybbie'll have lots of questions about her. I want to be able to tell her about Sybil without falling to pieces."

Mary gazed at George, who had placed his fist in his mouth, covering it in saliva. "As long as you are here, I'll help." She saw Tom glance up out of the corner of her eye. "I remember what Sybil was like as a little girl... and she should know as much about her as she possibly can."

When she met his eye, Tom was clearly amazed. She felt almost uncomfortable under this emotion filled gaze. "Thank you," he said.

* * *

_March 5, 2014_

Mary stepped into her office, admiring the space. It had been so long since she had last stepped foot in it... about a month before George was born and now he was almost seven months old.

Little by little, she was waking up. She was surviving another day. George was a reminder of what she had to live for, a reminder of who would inherit her childhood home. Tom was in large part responsible for helping her acclimate back to the land of the living, gradually persuading her to return to work.

He needn't any longer. Mary sat at her desk, pulled out her laptop, and got back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Three**

_April 17, 2014_

She sipped her cocktail, studying the library with a modicum of interest. Mama and Papa were hosting a small party at the Abbey, full of old friends and acquaintances. Edith was cozied up by her boyfriend Michael on the couch, a handsome man with dark hair that she only vaguely recognized was standing by the window, and Tom was sitting by Granny in the armchairs.

Mary couldn't help but smile. He had come a long way; they both had. This was the first night they had been off baby duty since their drunken New Year's celebration... not that it had really felt like a celebration. Since then, Mary had warmed up to motherhood considerably. When she had given George a bath last week in the kitchen sink, in awe of how small he still was. He had enjoyed it, splashing around and making a mess. Tom had taken a video of it and Mary could hardly believe the smiling, laughing woman was her.

"Pardon me, but... do I know you from somewhere?"

It was the handsome man, the one who had previously been by the window, approaching her with a glass of whiskey in his hands. "I'm not sure," said Mary, sipping her cocktail again.

The man smiled. "I'm Tony Foyle."

"Oh, I remember you," Mary interrupted, needing no further introductions. "Or rather, I remember a very superior young man who was rather annoyed by three bothersome little girls."

His eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me you're little Mary Crawley?"

"Not so little anymore," she told him, arching an eyebrow.

He let out a laugh. "No... I dare say you aren't. Your parents told me you'd be here but I'm afraid it's been ages since I last set eyes on you. How old were you, nine?"

"Ten," Mary corrected. "And you were in secondary school, if my memory is right."

"I wish you wouldn't. Nobody wants to relive those days," he said with a theatrical shudder. Her own memories from that time resurfaced before being promptly squelched. "So how has life treated you since we last met?"

Mary shrugged. "It's been good, for the most part... but the last few months have been difficult at best and plain bad at the worst." She didn't elaborate, figuring Mama and Papa would educate any guest of Matthew's accident... but when his brows furrowed in consternation, she realized she would need to do the hard part on her own. Oh, joy. "My husband passed away several months ago... the same day our son was born."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Tony murmured. "How terrible for you. I'm sorry to have brought it up."

Mary shook her head. "My parents really should have told you... anyway, it doesn't matter. I need to get used to telling people eventually." Tony still looked horribly uncomfortable, so Mary asked, "What about you? Is your life proving more satisfactory than mine?"

"Well... I'm about to be engaged soon. I think. That is, if she says yes."

"To whom? Anyone I know?"

"Mabel Lane Fox."

Mary did a double take. " _The_ Mabel Lane Fox?" Mary had heard her name more than a few times— more like a few hundred times. She was the heiress to a multimillion dollar shoe company and reality television star. Her name was in the headlines constantly, usually because of wild stunts she pulled.

"The one and only," said Tony with a smirk before taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Why is it just now that I'm hearing of this?" asked Mary, unknowingly clutching the stem of her glass tighter. "I hear about her all the time and yet I've never heard your name mentioned."

Tony shrugged. "Mabel's not as wild as she would like people to think she is. She values her privacy... and so do I. So we've kept things quiet, for now."

"How very interesting," said Mary, turning slightly. Tom was no longer by Granny, over by some blonde woman Mary didn't recognize. "So what is the real Miss Lane Fox like? I promise not to tell."

Tony laughed. "She's funny... and smart. Her whole public persona is an act... though she is rather charming in person." He wore a dreamy expression as he described her. "All her scandals are the result of a very convincing, calculated actress."

Mary's eyebrows shot up. "Why hasn't she taken it up, then? Real acting?"

"Because reality TV is far more lucrative. At least for now. I'm sure someone'll offer her a film role someday... then she can dazzle the world. Besides, it adds more publicity for the business."

Mary smiled. Somehow she doubted Mabel Lane Fox needed any more money, but she was impressed by what she was learning nonetheless... unless he was having her on and this was some huge prank. Still, she sensed he was telling the truth. "A savvy businesswoman," said Mary, draining her cocktail. She could respect that. "Well, good for her... though I suspect if my brother-in-law were here he'd have quite a few objections." It was simpler than calling him her deceased sister's fiancé at any rate... and Tom was family.

"Oh? Is he not one of Mabel's biggest fans?" asked Tony.

Mary shook her head. "I don't know. We don't exactly sit around and talk about _Foxy Mabel_ ," she told him, referring to Mabel's show. She had caught a few episodes of it but had personally found the name so cringeworthy that she refused to become a regular viewer on principle. "No, I only say that because he's a socialist. Don't even get his started on the evils of capitalism— he'll talk about it all night." Granted, Tom's lectures weren't all that bad— it was actually quite nice, seeing him passionate about something, but it was hardly her idea of a fun chat.

Tony snorted. "A socialist brother-in-law? If I had one of those, I think I'd stay away as far as I could."

Mary shook her head. "No... he's dear, really." It surprised her, to speak of him so fondly. In many ways, he was person she was closest to, but nevertheless it was odd to think that the man who had once fixed her car was now such a huge part of her life. "We live together actually."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Well, now I have to hear this story. My raving on and on about Mabel seems rather boring in comparison."

Mary shook her head. "I sincerely doubt it," she said.

They chatted a long time after that after Mary gave him a shortened version of the story— they even exchanged numbers. "Maybe you could join us for dinner sometimes," Tony said after entering his number into her phone.

Mary beamed. "I'll hold you to that." She watched him as he sauntered away over to Mama and Papa. It was a shame he was taken... he was rather handsome.

Mary started. What was wrong with her? It was as if for a moment she had forgotten everything. Mary sat her glass down, intent upon finding Tom. She was ready to go home.

Tom was over by the window, practically gulping down a glass of whiskey as if it were water. Mary grimaced at the sight, supposing she would have to be the one to drive home. She crossed the room, meeting him. "Having a good time?"

"Not really, no."

"Me either." He smiled weakly, looking relieved. "Let's go home."

* * *

_April 25, 2014_

_Tony: hey_

Mary stared down at the text. She hadn't honestly expected to hear from him again... and she wasn't sure if she was glad he had reached out or not. Deciding not to reply now, Mary slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"Edna's been in a bad mood of late."

Mary turned her head away from the computer to face Thomas... or, rather, his back. He was angled away from her, typing away on his own laptop. "Who?"

"Edna?" He swiveled his chair around now. When Mary made no sign that she recognized the name, he let out a sigh. "Your mother's new assistant?" He said slowly, as if it were perfect obvious who he was talking about.

Mary turned back to her computer, annoyed. "Why should I care?" Her mother's business wasn't really one of her biggest priorities. She was always organizing fundraisers and charities for the hospital or for people in the community... all of it was very well and good, but Mary had her own things to see to.

"Because she's making life hell up at the house."

"You mean she's making life difficult for Jimmy?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. Thomas flushed, looking away. That's what she thought. Jimmy was one of the tour guides at the house and Thomas's best friend— a best friend who he was madly in love with. He had told him so, in not so many words, and been rejected, but their friendship had remained salvageable. Nonetheless, Thomas was always trying to do special favors for him, to make life easier for him.

"Do you have any idea why she's upset?"

"How should I? I've never met the woman."

"She's upset because she's been rejected by Branson."

That made Mary snap her head around. "You mean Tom?"

Thomas nodded, grinning almost menacingly. He had a plan, she realized, and he had dragged her into it. "She met him at that party... well, I guess they met sometime before that." Mary couldn't think when or how recently that could have been. Until a few months ago, neither of them had anything resembling a social life. "The point is, she got his number somehow and she wouldn't stop asking him out until he blocked her. And now she's furious."

Mary couldn't believe Tom hadn't told her. Then again, Thomas had been known to make up stories to get his way... but so had she. They were far too much alike. She supposed she could always ask Tom to corroborate the story... "What do you suggest?"

"A restraining order ought to do it," said Thomas, with a devious smile. "And considering it would create a hassle for your mother, she'll be out."

Mary mulled it over. "I'll think about it." She hesitated. "And what if Tom doesn't wish to take legal action? What then?"

"Oh don't worry. I've got a plan. But I'd better not tell you about it."

Mary wasn't confident she was sure what he meant, but nevertheless she wanted no part of it. "Very well. Say nothing more." She hated the idea of Tom being harassed by this horrid woman, but the extent of her involvement in this scheme would only be to suggest the restraining order.

"Once we do get rid of her, your mother'll need a new assistant."

"I suppose you've a candidate in mind already?" asked Mary, turning back to her computer.

"Of course. Her name's Phyllis Baxter." Before she could ask anything more, Thomas said, "She's a hard worker and a dear friend."

Mary's eyebrows shot up. She had never heard him describe anyone as a _dear friend._ Not even Jimmy had that particular honor. "Really?"

"Is that such a shock?"

"I'm shocked you would admit that someone means that much to you."

Thomas looked uncomfortable. "She was the one who took me in. When my parents threw me out." Mary almost regretted saying anything. She didn't do well with this sort of thing... and by _this sort of thing_ , she meant emotions. "She was our next door neighbor... or she used to be. A friend of my sister... but she was always nicer to me than my sister ever was."

"Well, I'll put in a good word for her," said Mary hurriedly. She doubted Thomas would invent a sob story, and especially not to help another person. Like her, he hated being pitied.

"Thank you." She was surprised the sincerity in his voice. It was only because she knew him so well that she carried back on with work in silence.

* * *

"So," Mary said as she offered George a spoonful of yellow baby food— according to the jar, it was squash, "why didn't you tell me about Edna?"

Tom stilled, his fork connecting with the plate with a clatter. Mary turned with concern. Tom looked pale, almost shaken. She wondered if she maybe shouldn't have mentioned it. "How did you find out about that?"

"Thomas." Tom nodded his head before cutting up Sybbie lasagna again. "She's upset, apparently."

Mary was prepared for him to ignore her original question. Truthfully, she was fine not knowing— she had obviously crossed some line and as curious as she was, she didn't want to pry. So when he cleared his throat and started speaking, she was surprised. "I didn't think you'd want to know."

"Why, particularly?"

"Because you're Sybil's sister." He shrugged before setting Sybbie's plate aside, out of her grasp. "We have to let it cool down," he told his daughter who was staring at him with wide eyes. He then turned back to Mary. "I didn't want you to— well, I didn't want to be disrespectful."

Mary frowned. "You know that you're my friend, don't you?" Tom turned and looked at her. "I don't want to see you sad and alone forever. You don't have to worry about me... oh, I don't know, despising you or something like that."

Tom smiled at her, one of the most genuine ones she had seen in their dark hours together. "Thank you," he told her sincerely. "That means a lot."

Mary merely returned the smile, turning back to George, whose mouth was smeared with his food. She was using the spoon to try and clean it off when Tom said, "I don't know how it is for you... but I think it will be a while before I am ready to get back into dating again. Sybil was my whole world... we were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. It's hard to imagine finding that with anyone else."

Mary nodded. "I feel the same." Tom might be her friend, he might be one of the only people who had seen her at her lowest, but she couldn't even dream of expressing her thoughts on her despair. "But... you don't have to be looking for someone to marry. You are allowed to go out and have fun. We're still young yet," said Mary.

Tom shook his head, smiling slightly. "I know. But I think this whole mess with Edna has shown me that I'm not even ready for that... and honestly, I don't think I want that." Then, he added, with a touch of disgust, "At least not with her."

Mary couldn't help but smile at that. She knew Edna must have earned his distaste, and for that she was sorry, but she couldn't help but be amused by his uncharacteristic rudeness. It sounded more like something she'd say... in a way, she was proud. Maybe she was influencing him more than she thought. "And you don't have to," she said simply, giving George more food before turning to her lasagna. "Have you thought about a restraining order?"

"Restraining order?" Tom seemed shocked.

"You had to block her, didn't you?" When Tom nodded, still seeming alarmed by how informed she was about the situation. "I'm sure she's aware where we live, being Mama's assistant."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," said Tom hastily, now obviously uncomfortable. He gave Sybbie her lasagna and she immediately began picking up the pieces with her hands. Tom very gently tried helping her with her fork as he said, "I doubt she'd do anything that drastic."

Mary wasn't reassured by that answer. "Just how well do you really know her, Tom?"

He hesitated, turning back towards Mary when Sybbie finally took the fork from him. "Not very well at all." Seeming to realize it insinuated something, he hurriedly added, "It's never gone past kissing."

Mary flushed. She hadn't even thought of... well, _that_. She wasn't certain why. Maybe it was because it was Tom... "Of course," she said, nodding. "But the point is that you don't know what she's capable of."

Tom shook his head. "I don't think she'd do that."

However, Mary wasn't so certain. When dinner was over, she texted Thomas.

_MARY: No restraining order. Time for Plan B._

A week or so later, Edna was fired. Mama never said why, but listened when Mary suggested Ms. Baxter as a replacement.

* * *

_May 2, 2014_

It had been ages since Mary had last been in a nightclub. _The Lotus_ was packed full of people, most of them younger than herself. Still, Mary was fairly confident that she still looked good— Rose, who was the one who had insisted they go clubbing, had squealed when she saw Mary in the short black dress.

"Mary, let's find Tom and Jon!" Rose yelled over the music, grabbing her cousin's hand.

Tom was sitting by the bar, alone, a plastic cup halfway empty. "Where's Jon?" asked Rose.

"Bathroom," said Tom, lips quirking up. "He'll be back in a moment." Rose huffed, eyeing the bathroom.

"You should have joined us," Mary said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. "You deserve time have some fun."

"I'm not good at dancing."

"It doesn't matter. No one will notice." She gave him a smile. "Please?"

Jon returned just then, practically staggering towards Rose. He was an old friend from her days in London, an old crush from secondary school who she hadn't seen since starting university... and Mary wondered if Rose was realizing that perhaps she should have let that infatuation fizzle out. "Let's dance," he said, words practically slurring together before taking her hand and leading her back to the dance floor.

Mary turned to Tom. "Don't you think we should keep an eye on her?" Rose was an adult, of course, but a young one.

With a groan, Tom rose to his feet, draining his cup and followed her. Mary beamed.

It was practically impossible to make conversation on the dance floor, so Mary didn't even try to bother. She allowed herself to get swept away and have a good time, hoping Tom was able to let go for one night as well. He had worked hard; he had returned to work now as well, mostly doing freelance things, but he poured himself into his work. Between that and parenting two babies, he deserved a night off.

But under the multicolored lights, Mary spied a familiar face. "Oh my God!" She gripped Tom's arm, causing him to stop dancing. "I think I just saw Tony!"

"Who?"

"Tony!" She yelled. "From the party?" He has texted her twice since then and she had yet to respond, not quite certain what to say.

Tom nodded. "Why don't you say hello to him?"

"I don't know where he—" She was interrupted by someone tapping on her shoulder. Mary turned around, face to face with the man himself. "Tony! It is you!"

"Hi, Mary. Care to dance?" He was grinning ear to ear.

"Certainly," Mary replied easily, hardly without thinking. She then paused, glancing over at Tom. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." He seemed unbothered, actually smiling. He departed, presumably to head back to the bar. Mary turned back to Tony.

"Sorry," he said, "I should have realized you were dancing with someone."

"Don't be. I'm glad to see you."

"That's a relief. I thought I did something to upset you. You haven't responded to my texts."

"Will you think I'm silly if I say that I don't know what to say?"

Tony grinned, a warmth in his eyes. "Not at all." He took her hand, leading her further out onto the dance floor. His touch was steady and lingering, every brush of his skin against hers an experience she wouldn't soon forget. "Will he be jealous, do you think? That man you were dancing with?"

Mary laughed. "That's the famous brother-in-law... so no, not in the slightest."

"Oh!" Tony began laughing as well. "Well, good, then. I'd feel terrible if I stole you away from a boyfriend."

"Don't worry. I don't have any of those yet." It was then that Mary realized the flirtatious tone the conversation had taken. "How are things with you and Mabel? Good, I hope?"

"Yeah... yeah, things are good with us." Tony nodded, not looking convinced. "I haven't proposed quite yet but I'm working on it."

"Something elaborate?"

"Trying to work up the courage, more like," he said with a smile. "But yes... something fairly elaborate. Not too flashy, though... she's a woman of class."

Mary would beg to differ but then she didn't know Mabel. Not the real her... Mary wondered if they were anything alike. "Well, I hope it goes well," she told him, moving closer.

Tony smiled but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Mary... there's something I—"

A man connected with Tony suddenly, shoving him towards Mary. She let out a gasp as nearly every inch of their bodies were pressed together, the contact startling and jerking her into reality. Her heels wobbled but Tony managed to pull her to her feet, just in time for Mary to spot Jon, Rose's date, running off towards a bathroom. "Oh, no," Mary said aloud, unable to be heard over the loud music. She glanced over to where Rose had been, spying Tom now weaving through the crowd to rescue her. "I'm sorry, but I— I think I need to leave."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"My cousin," she answered. "That man was her—"

Tony seemed to understand. "Of course. It was nice seeing you, anyway."

Mary shot him a smile before running away.

* * *

_May 3, 2014_

The night hadn't been a total disaster. Rose had met another man, one who had taken pity on her and danced with her for a while. His name was Jack and had given her his number. Mary was pleased for her younger cousin, thinking he was a better fit for Rose... by the sounds of it, any way. She gushed about him the whole ride home and Tom and Mary exchanged amused looks. They remembered what it was like, being young and meeting that one person. Rose was about the same age Mary had been when she met Matthew.

"I'm going to take a shower," said Tom after they arrived home. They had dropped Rose back off at Downton, where she would stay the rest of the summer, and were now back home with Sybbie and George. "D'you mind watching the kids?"

"Of course not," said Mary, balancing George in one arm. Sybbie, who could now toddle around, was at her feet.

Tom shot her a grin before walking into the bathroom. She heard the shower start up a few minutes later, watching the babies as they crawled around the floor, playing with their toys.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Mary slipped it out, dimly wondering who it might be.

_TONY: I have a strange question for you._

She frowned. What did he mean by that?

_MARY: Okay. What is it?_

Several minutes passed. Mary kept checking her phone, only setting it down when George tried to put one of one of the socks that she had just removed from her feet directly into his mouth. He immediately began crying, enraged she had stopped him, which lead to her holding him as Sybbie stared at them with confusion. "I'm sorry," Mary told him wearily, "but you cannot put those in your mouth."

She managed to glance at her phone, finding a message from Tony. Actually, there were several messages from Tony. What she read took her breath away.

_TONY: I know this sounds crazy but... if I weren't in a relationship with Mabel, would you consider ever consider us becoming more than friends?_

_TONY: I know it's a weird thing to ask but I can't stop thinking about you. I haven't been able to since I met you at your parents party._

_TONY: Things with Mabel haven't been great lately. Meeting you really showed me how messed up things have been. I guess I'm just looking for a sign to go through with all this or not... and I think you're my sign._

_TONY: I'm sorry. I know this is a lot_

Mary was stunned. She hadn't expected this... granted, there had always been an undercurrent of flirtation when she had been with Tony, something she hadn't wanted to acknowledge, but it had been there. She wouldn't deny that she found him handsome... and he was an interesting man.

"Mama."

Mary dropped her phone, the shock from Tony's text forgotten. George's tears had stopped only a few minutes ago. "What did you say?" she asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Mama," repeated George, looking at her.

Mary didn't even feel embarrassed as her eyes filled with tears. "That's right. I'm your Mama." He looked up at her with those blue eyes, those same blue eyes Matthew had. He looked so much like her husband... When he had been born, his hair was brown, just like hers, a fact which had saddened her. She wanted him to resemble Matthew in every way possible... She was so glad his hair was starting to lighten, that he looked even more like Matthew...

"Mary lift me up."

Sybbie was gripping the edge of the couch, standing on her two feet. Sybbie had been speaking for quite a while now, but Mary beamed nonetheless, using one hand to help her up next to her. "Here we go, darling," Mary said, eyes still teary. She realized poor Tony was likely sweating bullets, but she couldn't bring herself to care too much, not with these two demanding so much of her attention.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked when he left the bathroom with wet hair, a towel, and change of clothes.

"Yes," said Mary, meeting his eye with a smile. "It's just... George said his first word." When Tom's face lit up, she added, "It was Mama."

"Is that right? Did you say Mama, George?" Tom asked, walking over to the couch with a wide smile and crouching down so he could be eye level with her son.

"Mama," George said yet again, eliciting a delighted laugh from Mary.

"This is cause for celebration," Tom said, rising to his feet and scooping Sybbie up. "I think this means he gets pear for dinner tonight."

Mary smiled, pleased Tom had remembered that it was George's favorite. "Does his Mama get something special as well?" asked Mary.

"What do you want, then?"

"A glass of the good wine," answered Mary, still admiring George. She turned around. "Not that kind you've been buying from the store."

"It's not that bad."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Tom. I know my wine. It's not up to standard."

Tom rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Fine. We'll have the 'good' wine," he said, doing air quotes to the best of his ability while still holding Sybbie in his arms.

Mary turned back to George, still amazed he had finally learned to speak. It was a moment Matthew should have been here for... She wondered if his first word might have been _Dada_ had he still been with them. Mary tried not to be too sad as she shifted him on her lap, kissing the top of his head. She had to believe Matthew was still with them, in some small part. In a way, he was; he lived in her mind. Sometimes she dreamed of him simply existing— gathering up the laundry, reading his books in the armchair, wrapping his arms around her as they slept. Mundane things that Mary hadn't treasured nearly enough when he had been alive.

She knew what her answer to Tony was. Still, she waited a while before sending it, even though she typed it up while balancing George on her lap, eyes flitting to him every couple of seconds while she typed with one thumb.

_MARY: I am so sorry it's taken me so long to answer. I got sidetracked with the kids._

_I am incredibly flattered to know you think of me in a romantic light. It's good to be reminded I'm still a youngish woman. If I am being honest, I am attracted to you. You're a very handsome man and you have been so kind to me, but the awful truth is that I'm not over Matthew yet. He was my soulmate and losing him was losing a part of myself. You said that you couldn't stop thinking about me but I can't stop thinking about him. I would feel terrible if I played any part in ruining your relationship with Mabel, so I encourage you to take your time and really think things through before making your decision. Marriage doesn't fix all your problems, so either sort them out or break with her before things go too far but please know I wish you luck._

It was practically a novel length message, but it contained everything that needed to be said. She meant what she said; she wanted Tony to be happy... even though it never would be with her.

* * *

_May 10, 2014_

The headlines on nearly every tabloid in country announced the engagement between Mabel Lane Fox and her mysterious secret boyfriend, Tony Gillingham. Mary pretended to be glad, wondering why it bothered her so much now to know he would never be hers. She would have to content herself with the reality Tony would always simply be a _Maybe_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it so far!

**New Normal**

**  
** **Chapter Four**

_June 10, 2014_

Preparations were underway for Papa's fifty-fifth birthday party. Thomas and Phyllis, Mama's new assistant, had spent the past month booking caterers and sending out invitations. It was supposed to be a surprise but some idiotic guests had ruined it by texting Papa asking what time they were meant to show up. Nevertheless, he was still excited and Rose was planning a special surprise.

Initially, Mary had been hesitant. Rose was incredibly spontaneous and wasn't always the best judge of things. Still, the young girl was incredibly persuasive. "They've been ever so kind to me," she practically gushed when she burst into Mary's office. "I cannot thank them enough for letting me stay Downton while I've been at uni. I want to thank them in some way." When Mary continued to exchange dubious looks with Thomas, Rose huffed and said, "I promise it's nothing wild. It's perfectly respectable."

Mary let out a sigh, hoping she wouldn't regret this decision. "Alright. But if things go horribly wrong, I'm holding you responsible," she said, narrowing her eyes.

Now that the party was finally approaching, Mary found that she was getting overwhelmed. There would be no tours at the house that day to give Papa a relaxing day at home with Mama, Isis, and the puppies, whereas the whole family was arriving for dinner that night. A number of other guests were set to arrive as well, including an old family friend and ex-boyfriend of Mary's: Evelyn Napier.

She glanced down at her most recent texts from him again.

_EVELYN: do you mind if i bring a friend along?_

She thought of the last time he had asked such a question. Mama and Papa had been away for something with Sybil, Edith had gone to a friend's, and Mary, wanting to rebel for once in her life, had decided to throw a party. She had invited her then boyfriend, Evelyn, who had asked if he could bring along Kemal Pamuk, the foreign exchange student he had befriended.

She should have said no.

_MARY: Of course! The more, the merrier! Looking forward to seeing you! :)_

Mary tried to soothe her nerves, even as she kept misspelling words in her email to the livestock people. A red line was under the word "calfs", causing her to sigh wearily.

Maybe it wasn't a friend. Maybe it was a girlfriend... but after scouring his Facebook and Instagram, it was concluded Evelyn was very much single and there was no girlfriend lurking in the distance.

Thomas sat a cup of black coffee on her desk. "You look like shit," he told her flatly.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks." Still, she accepted it. The bitter taste took her anxiety ridden thoughts for a while.

"Is it still this Evelyn thing?" asked Thomas. When Mary didn't answer, he let out a sigh. "Look, do why don't you just text him and ask him not to bring the friend?"

"And how would we explain it without revealing what I did?" countered Mary, fixing him with a cold glare. "I'll be fine."

Thomas said nothing... He didn't know the whole story. Only four people knew what had happened: herself, Kemal, Anna, and Matthew. Edith thought she knew, but she was wrong, as Edith normally was. Thomas knew only the brief details of what Mary had told him and from what he had heard from a mutual friend who had attended Mary's school.

She still felt ashamed, especially when she thought of the gossip, the whispered rumors that only exacerbated the whole affair. Evelyn had never believed a word of it, thinking it was vicious gossip from their petty classmates, not even believing Edith's contribution to the proceedings, but Mary knew the truth. They had maintained a friendship, even after they mutually broke it off.

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'll get over it."

Thomas didn't give her a pitying look, but she knew he was feeling sorry for her, which was just as bad. Mary angrily typed away, trying her best to take her mind off of things.

* * *

_June 11, 2014_

She woke up in a sweat, the grey light streaming in through her parted windows. She sat up, groaning, knowing sleep would be impossible. Her nightmares were fragmented, splices of her worst moments and envisionings. She rubbed her eyes before standing, walking down the stairs.

There only a few images Mary could remember when she reached the bottom of the steps— Kemal looming over her childhood bed, shirtless, swaying in place, somehow looking even more beautiful under the influence of the drugs. Sybil screaming her head hurt in her hospital bed, face screwed up in pain. Matthew driving down the busy road, unaware he was mere minutes away from death... These were the things that tortured her in sleep and when she was awake.

"You're up early," said Tom when he found her in the kitchen, scrambling some eggs. "You're up before the babies."

"Did I wake you?" asked Mary. It was 5:14— she was usually the last one out of bed, scarfing down her breakfast before running out the door with George and Sybbie to drop them off with their grandparents.

Tom shook his head. "I normally wake up around this time. I just don't leave bed until later." He smiled at her before letting it fade. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Mary paused her task to stare at him. "How did you know?"

"I have enough them myself. I recognize the signs," said Tom. He looked at her with concern. "Usually about Sybil."

Mary nodded. That day had been particularly traumatic, for many reasons... it was no wonder they were both still haunted by it. "We probably need therapy."

Tom let out a laugh. "Yeah. You're probably right." He leaned against the stainless steel refrigerator, posing almost like a model in his tee shirt and loose basketball shorts. "What're yours about?"

Mary thought about saying Matthew, but it wasn't the complete truth. "All sorts of things," she admitted, focusing her attention back to the eggs. Then, she added, "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough."

She made him a plate of eggs and left him to make the toast before going to check on the babies. George was awake, squirming in his crib, whereas Sybbie was still in a peaceful slumber. Mary kissed her son's head, silently thanking him for not screeching and waking his cousin. He sat in his high chair, happily playing with animal crackers as Tom and Mary talked and ate.

"I got a strange text from Edith yesterday," said Tom halfway through breakfast.

Mary was relatively nonplussed. "Oh?" She asked, feigning interest. Truthfully, knowing her sister, she was probably inventing a situation to create intrigue. She possessed as much mystery as a bucket.

"She asked me if Sybbie was worth it, even though I had to raise her on my own. Like... if I could do things differently, would I choose have her?"

Mary bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. The question was bizarre, certainly, and not funny at all, but... "Did she think that you were actually trying for Sybbie?" It wasn't exactly a secret that her niece was unplanned.

Tom shook his head. "I don't know. It was strange."

Mary frowned, realizing this was truly bothering him. "What did you tell her?" she asked.

"I told her I wasn't raising Sybbie on my own. That I had you... and that as painful as it was, I'd never choose a life without her in it."

Mary was disarmed by the easiness that he revealed the part about her. "Oh," she said, touched. Still, she hid her smile by forcing a bite full of eggs in her mouth. She didn't look up again until she wonder aloud, "Did she ever tell you why she asked?"

Tom shook his head. "I have no idea."

Mary stared down at her plate. "Maybe it was for column," she said, thinking of the magazine she worked for. "She could be doing an article about single parents." She then frowned. "I wonder why she never asked me."

"She probably figured you'd give the same answer I did," replied Tom, and Mary had to agree. She probably would have... that is, if she had even bothered to reply at all. Unless it was something important, Mary usually didn't respond to anything Edith sent her. "Or maybe she figured as a fellow journalist that I'd give a more eloquently worded answer that would produce a good quote." Mary didn't take offense; she was no good at writing. "I'm afraid I didn't do that. I answered like a brother, not a journalist."

Mary's fork clinked against her plate. "Is that what you think of her as? A sister?"

Tom smiled, the first real smile of the day. Mary tried to suppress her annoyance over the fact it was for Edith. "I suppose I do. I don't have any sisters of my own, so I don't really have anything else to compare it to. But I guess I do. She's my family and I want the best for her."

"And what about me? Am I sister, too?"

Tom hesitated. "I don't know. I haven't given it much thought, to be honest." Mary tried not to be offended... which was only possible when he said, "It's different with us. You're pretty much my best friend and in some ways, you're like a partner. Not romantically, of course," he said hastily, "but you're helping me raise my child, and vice versa. We live together too... so I think that makes us closer."

Mary couldn't hide her smile at that. "As long as I'm your favorite," she said, rising to her feet with her empty plate in hand. Before she reached for his, she added, "After Sybil, of course."

"I don't believe in having favorites," insisted Tom, but Mary knew if he did, it would be her.

* * *

_June 13, 2014_

She had been correct; Evelyn's friend was another man. "He's my boss," disclosed Evelyn when she greeted him in the drawing room with a hug. The friend was busy talking with Mama. "But we do hang out with each other outside of work." He gave Mary an apologetic look. "We're in the area to look at these big houses and see how efficiently they are running in the twenty first century. When he found out I was coming to Downton, he practically invited himself... but I wanted to ask first." Evelyn looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry if we've created an inconvenience."

"Not at all," said Mary. She gave him a smile. "Actually, I wouldn't mind letting you two looking things over... during work hours, of course," she added with a smile. "We're opening up a petting zoo soon and your advice would be most appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do," assured Evelyn eagerly. "We've a busy schedule in Yorkshire, but given his enthusiasm to visit Downton, I'm sure we'll be able to make time."

"What is his name, anyway?" asked Mary, realizing the mystery man's name hadn't been spoken once. She glanced at him over by Mama, noting his shorter height and floppy brown hair that curled at the ends. He was attractive, though...

"Charles Blake," answered Evelyn.

After dinner, Rose's surprise was revealed to be her new boyfriend's band. Jack Ross crooned into a microphone, causing nearly every lady present to swoon at his angelic voice. He was more than willing cover Beatles songs for Papa's benefit and sing more contemporary songs for everyone else's. There were original songs as well, all of which were easy to get stuck in one's head. Mary reminded herself to add their latest album to her Spotify library as her and Evelyn swayed across the dance floor.

"I'm so glad to see you looking so well," Evelyn murmured, voice almost hard to hear over the music. "I've been thinking about you... wondering how you've been holding up."

There was no double meaning, no lecherous undertones... simply genuine concern. It was one of the things Mary liked most about Evelyn: his sincerity. Even though she was well aware there were still feelings lingering beneath the surface on his end, he had always respected her decisions.

"It's been hard," she confessed, meeting his eyes. "But Tom's helped me a lot."

Evelyn smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." It took a moment for he added, "I'm happy to see how well you look. Lovely, as ever."

That was another thing she liked about Evelyn; she always managed to receive an ego boost whenever she was in his company. "Thank you," she said demurely, though she was hardly surprised he thought such a thing. "I'm pleased to know the stress of planning this party hasn't taken its toll on me."

Evelyn chuckled. "I don't think anything could. Was it your idea, the band?"

It wasn't only Evelyn who observed Rose's brilliance. "I have to admit this isn't what I was expecting," confessed Thomas as he humored her with a dance to _Love Me Do_. "But I think your father is enjoying it."

Mary glanced over to him and Mama, who were staring into one another's eyes adoringly. They looked so disgustingly in love... it would have been nauseating to her if it were any other couple. "I think so, too," said Mary, turning back to Thomas. She twirled around. "I'll say Jack will definitely meet Papa's approval. I'm sure he'll be invited to a Sunday dinner sometime soon."

When the song finished up, Thomas went to seek out Jimmy, who had spent the evening in and out of his girlfriend's arms. Mary was looking for Tom, who had seemed to disappear, only to bump into Edith— literally.

"Watch it!" her sister snapped, spilling her drink onto the floor. She glared at Mary. "Thanks a lot!"

Mary couldn't help it. She smirked. "Oh, don't make such a scene. It's only water." When Edith scowled at her, Mary was able to see how pale and drawn her sister looked. She thought of Tom's concerns... Maybe things weren't going so well for her. She wondered where Michael was... usually he was at these sort of gatherings. Seemingly unable to express her concern in a genuine, caring manner, Mary bluntly said, "You look like hell."

"Oh, fuck off, Mary."

Mary supposed she deserved that. It wasn't exactly complimentary. "Are you okay?" She tried again. She followed her sister over to the bar as she collected napkins, wiping off her green dress. "I mean it. You look sick."

Edith looked at her through narrowed eyes. "I'm fine."

"Where's Michael?"

"Business trip in Germany," Edith said tightly, grabbing another fistful of napkins. Judging by her tone, she sounded angry. Mary wondered if there had been a fight...

"Is everything alright between you two?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Why are you bothering to ask?" She demanded. "You don't care, so stop pretending— the only reason you want to know is so you can rub it in my face if things have gone south. Don't deny it," she said, frustration evident in her voice.

Mary blinked, unused to this side of Edith. Her sister wasn't spineless in their confrontations, but she was never this aggressive. "As a matter of fact, I am genuinely concerned about you. So is Tom," she told her, hoping she believed her. "But since you don't want to talk to me about it, I won't bother." Mary turned away, aware Edith was still lingering there. With a sigh, Mary reached for a flute of champagne before offering it to her sister. "Here. Drink up. It might make you feel better."

Edith cast her a disgusted look. "I better not. I'm trying to cut back." She stalked away, her napkins in hand.

Well. She had tried. Mary took a drink of what was now her champagne. She resolved herself to find Tom and report back... but maybe without mentioning how she had inadvertently insulted her sister's appearance.

She was approaching Evelyn and his friend— Charles, if she remembered correctly— on the sidelines. "—just like every other spoiled brat I've come across," she heard the new man say.

"You don't even know her," Evelyn countered. "If you get to know her, you'll see how lovely and clever she is."

"Clever? Did you hear what she was talking about at dinner?" Charles scoffed. "Going on and on about how the house had been in the family for centuries— as if it's her God given right to manage the place! She's just like all those other idiots at the places that are going under!"

There was only one person he could be talking about: her. Mary's hand tightened on the stem of her champagne glass she stood in front of them, unbeknownst to the men, who were facing one another. "Look, she's proud of her family history and it's a beautiful house. What's the crime in that?" Evelyn asked, defending her. He really was a dear... She reminded herself to send him a gift when Christmas rolled around.

"The problem is that she's expecting us to take time out of our work week in order to do a favor for her! And I'm sorry, but I won't do it!"

Well... at least she wasn't about to ruin a professional relationship. Mary pretended to trip, sending the contents of her glass onto Charles Blake. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Mary apologized with little to no emotion— at least no real emotion. "I've been so terribly clumsy!"

"Are you okay?" asked Evelyn, taking two steps forward to wrap an arm around her and ensure she was steady on her feet as Charles Blake glowered at her, unconvinced by her display.

"Oh, I'm fine— Mr. Blake, there's napkins over by the bar if you need them," said Mary, gesturing over where she had just been. She gave him a fake smile before saying, "Excuse me." She smirked to herself as she walked away.

"Where have you been?" asked Tom once she finally joined him. He was seated next to Granny, rising to his feet once he spotted her.

"Causing trouble," she told him, smiling. She didn't regret it— well, she regretted angering Edith, but knocking Mr. Blake down a peg filled her with nothing but satisfaction. "Care for a dance?"

"Lead the way." He held his hand out for her to take.

This was a different type of dance from the kind they had engaged in at the club. They were much closer to one another, for starters, actually touching. Her hand rested on his shoulder. He was dressed up this evening, for once— but then again, that was only because Mary had threatened him. Left to his own devices, Tom would have appeared in a tee shirt and jeans, no matter what the occasion. Papa had blown a gasket when he appeared at her and Matthew's rehearsal dinner in that outfit exactly.

"Why're you smiling like that?" asked Tom, tilting his head to the side.

Mary shook her head. "Just thinking." He really was part of her family now... her and George wouldn't have come this far without him. It made her infinitely grateful to know Sybil had chosen him to be in her life... because now he was a part of Mary's.

Mary was about to tell him her own fears about Edith when the strains of a familiar song began playing. She froze, mouth open.

"Mary? Mary, what's wrong?" Tom stopped moving as well, looking at her with concern.

Mary was briefly transported to a simpler time when she had been just a girl on a date with a boy, eating candy floss at the fair and gripping his hand on the Ferris wheel. She remembered letting her arms wrap around his neck as they swayed back and forth in a field as the song blasted from a speaker. " _This song's from my favorite movie,"_ revealed Matthew, lips twitching.

" _Your favorite movie is_ The Lion King _?"_ Mary remembered asking dubiously, determined not to be too charmed by him. It was the Elton John version playing, but it was obvious what he was referring, too.

" _My father took me to the theaters to see it. I don't know where Mother was... but he passed away a short time afterwards,"_ Matthew told her. " _It's one of the last memories I have of him."_

Mary had immediately felt like a bitch for teasing him about it, but thankfully Matthew hadn't seen it that way. Their next date had been spent at her shared flat with Anna, curled up on the couch under the same blanket, watching that very same movie. Mary had even made popcorn— she had burned it in the microwave and the flat had smelled for a week, but Matthew insisted it was the thought that counted. They had sang _Can You Feel the Love Tonight?_ to one another, pleasantly surprised by one another's vocal abilities. It was their first dance at their wedding...

It was _their_ song, simply put.

Tom didn't know the full story, but he knew the last part well enough. He had been the best man, after all. "Shit," he said quietly. Then, "Do you want to go?"

She didn't want to ruin things. It was Papa's birthday— but at the moment, Mary felt nothing but pain. All she could manage was a nod, ducking her head down, and Tom lead her through the crowd.

* * *

_June 22, 2014_

Mary stood outside the office, dressed in a sleek purple dress, cursing. Her phone battery was running low— Thank God there was a charger in her car. She could recharge it as she drove into York.

Tom was going to some event for work, reporting on a political fundraiser. He was allowed to bring a guest— "I know it's not your sort of thing, but—" He shrugged. "I thought you might want to come."

He was right. It wasn't her sort of thing; Mary wasn't invested in politics. She paid attention to what was going on, sure, but it wasn't her passion like it was Tom's. Nevertheless, she had agreed to go—

Now if only Mr. Blake would show up.

Evelyn had texted her three days ago, informing her that Blake had managed to clear time for her in his very busy schedule for Monday. "But why?" asked Mary, jaw dropping. "I spilled champagne all over him."

"Well, it was an accident," Evelyn said. Mary was glad they were talking to one another on the phone— if they were standing in front of one another, he would have seen her guilty expression... though he clearly believed her champagne incident was a mishap. "He won't hold that against you."

Evelyn informed Mary then about Blake's interest in the new petting zoo. "Won't you be coming?" asked Mary, hopeful he would be there as well.

"I'm afraid not," Evelyn said, sounding genuinely upset. "My aunt and uncle have invited me over for dinner that night. They found out I was in the area and I couldn't really say no. Hopefully we'll be able to meet up again, though?"

So Mary was stuck waiting as dusk approached, frantically glancing at the time. Finally, Blake's Civic approached. He stepped out after turning off the engine and his headlight. "Goodness," he said, looking her up and down, as he stepped out of the vehicle. "I'm rather shabbily dressed. I didn't know farm animals demanded such respect."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I actually have something going on this evening. So we'll have to make this snappy."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "Should I drive us there, then?" He offered. "It is accessible through the road, right?"

"Since the idea is to transport schoolchildren there for field trips, yes, it is," said Mary. "And perhaps it would be best."

Mary was surprised by how cleanly the interior of his car was. It still retained that new car smell, even though it was at least ten years old. Blake started up the car, which began playing _Dance Dance_ by Fall Out Boy _._ "You can change the music if you want," offered Blake, offering her his phone, attached to the AUX cord.

"No, this song is fine," said Mary. This song reminded her of Sybil and that one year where she had insisted on wearing thick eyeliner and delighted in horrifying Mama and Papa by dying her hair black. It made her nostalgic for what she realized now was a much simpler time... even though it had come with its own trials and tribulations.

Mary directed him to the barn, where several piglets, chickens, a calf, some lambs, three ponies, and a donkey now resided. "What will you do with them once they grow up?" asked Blake, inspecting the calf before holding out a hand, which was promptly licked.

Mary shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of maybe adding the adult animals to some sort of historical thing— to give perspective on how the farmers did things. Maybe we could have someone show them how to milk the cow?" She shrugged. "If we have enough milk, we could use it for the café up at the house."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "You've put a great deal of thought into this."

"It wasn't just my family who lived here," Mary said, trying not to inject bitterness into her tone, knowing he thought she fixated on her family's prestige alone. "There were tenant farmers and servants and all sorts of others— and I think it is important we tell all their stories."

He took a step back, giving her a strange look. If Mary had to guess, it was one of grudging respect. "Where are these piglets?" he asked.

"Outside." She gestured to the door at the back of the barn. "Do you have an interest in pigs, then?"

"Some. There used to be some at my neighbor's farm," Blake said casually. "I always liked going to see them as a child." He lead the way to the back of the barn. Mary's pace slowed. He was actually being... pleasant. What had happened to the rude man from the party?

The placid mood didn't last long. "What do you mean they're almost dead?" demanded Mary, nearly hysterical as she stared down at the piglets, two of which were laying in the dirt, breathing shallowly.

"They knocked their water over!" Blake had crawled into the pen, inspecting them. "They're dehydrated!"

"Should I call the vet?" asked Mary, frantic.

"There's no time!" Blake was climbing out of the pen, working the buttons on his jacket. "He won't make it in time, and it will be costly to call him out this late. No," he said, casting his jacket to the side, "I can manage it, but only if we act now. Where's the nearest source of water?"

"In the barn!" Mary lead him to it.

When he began filling up a pail, Mary picked one up herself, readying herself to place hers under the spout once he was finished. "What are you doing?" Blake asked.

"Helping you." When he gave her an incredulous look, she said, "They're my pigs!"

The expression was wiped off his face. He nodded before questioning, "What about your thing? The political event?"

"He can do without me. He'll understand once I explain it to him." She sat the pail down, reaching into her purse.

"Hello?" Tom picked up on the second dial.

"Tom? It's me."

"I know. What's up? Are you almost here?"

"Not even close. Listen, I'm sorry, but I can't make it," she said quickly. "I'm so sorry, but something happened with the pigs. They're almost on the brink of death—"

"Oh my God!"

"I won't be able to make it," she reiterated. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could—"

"It's fine. Go save your pigs. I'll manage the evening by myself."

"You're a darling," said Mary, breathing a sigh of relief. She was filling up her own bucket now. "I have to go. Thank you so much for understanding."

"It's no problem. Good luck!"

She hung up before running to help Mr. Blake.

* * *

After what felt like eons, her and Mr. Blake sat on a bale of hay, covered in mud and bits of straw. Her shoes were ruined, dress practically unsalvageable. She knew she looked a fright, but thankfully Blake did as well, so she was in good company.

"Is it over?" She panted, out of breath.

He shook his head. "Not yet. I want to give them some more water later. Make sure they'll be okay." He met her eye. "I can drive you back to your car."

Mary shook her head. "Like I said, they're my pigs. I need to make sure they're alright."

He tilted his head to the side. "I misjudged you. I'm sorry for that." She was taken by surprise. "I've been visiting plenty of estates run by members of the old family and they're almost all convinced they know better and completely unreceptive to my advice, despite it being in their best interests. I thought you were like that. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

It was an honest apology. Mary's lips twitched. "If you had met me before I knew my husband, you probably would have been right," Mary told him, thinking of the girl she had once been. "But I must admit, I misjudged you, too."

"Really? Who did you think I was?"

"An arrogant prick."

Thankfully, he didn't take offense. Blake let out a loud laugh that seemed to echo throughout the barn. "You aren't the first person to think that," he assured her. "And I'm not entirely certain that isn't an accurate description at times." He paused. "I'm sorry I ruined your night, though."

Mary shook her head. "It's fine. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it. I was just going for Tom's sake."

"So he wasn't upset you didn't make it?"

Mary shook her head. "I feel sorry I left him in the lurch, but he understand how important this is to me."

He smiled. "You're lucky to find someone that understanding to spend your life with." Mary was confused by his phrasing before Blake said, "He sounds like a very good husband."

Mary burst into laughter now. Poor Mr. Blake looked confused before Mary explained, "Tom's not my husband."

"Oh." Blake seemed to comprehend things. "I thought the name wasn't right. Evelyn's mentioned your husband to me a few times... I thought it was something else."

"His name was Matthew." She stared down at her waterlogged shoes. Before he could ask, she said, "He's dead now. There was a car crash... it's been about a year now." It was a lot of information and a lot of painful memories to sift through all in one go, but Mary wanted to get it out of the way at once instead of slowly rehashing it all.

He sucked in a deep breath of air. "I'm so sorry. God, I feel like an arse now."

Mary shook her head. "It's not your fault. You weren't to know. Most people don't."

"Still," muttered Blake. "I don't even know what to say. I can't imagine how awful that must have been for you."

"You aren't alone in that," she assured him. "Not many people do. In fact, the only person who really understands is Tom."

Blake was quiet. "Who exactly is Tom to you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting..." she trailed off. "He's my brother-in-law. My sister passed away a year before Matthew did."

He nodded. "I think Evelyn said something about that, now that I think about it. I'm so sorry. I know I keep saying it but I do mean it."

Mary smiled at him. It didn't meet her eyes, but it didn't need to. "Thank you," she told him, before letting in fade away.

They were lulled into a silence. Blake leaned over suddenly. Mary wondered what he was doing until he suddenly flung mud at her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, gasping and letting a few giggles escape her, astonished.

"You're smiling now," Mr. Blake said, almost proudly.

Figuring she had nothing to lose, Mary scooped up a handful of mud, smearing it across his face. Her fingertips grazed his lips, and when he spat it out, trying to wipe it away and only succeeded wiping it further onto his face, Mary only laughed harder.

* * *

_July 23, 2015_

It was past two in the morning before Mary and Charles (as he requested she call him) walked back to his car. "I feel awful about dirtying up your car," lamented Mary, before giggling when she realized how bad it sounded. Goodness, she was tired. She wasn't normally this giggly.

Charles heard the accidental double entendre as well but thankfully didn't comment on it. "Don't worry," he said easily, smirking to himself. "I'll be getting it dirty myself."

He drove them back to her car by the office, an unfamiliar song playing but one Mary liked a great deal. She was going to ask for the name when he pulled up beside her car. "Thank you," she said to him genuinely. "You saved my bacon. Literally."

They both laughed at that. "I hope you won't be eating them soon. I took great care to ensure the children could pet them." He smiled. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"But it was. I owe you a drink— or a dinner. Or possibly even both."

"I'd like that," said Charles, beaming at her. "I'll give you my number, if you like?"

Mary stared down at her phone, clicking the home button, only to stare at blank screen. "Shit. My phone's dead," she told him.

"Okay. Give me yours, then, and I'll text you."

After Mary finished giving him her number, they exchanged farewells. She trudged over to her car, sad that the seat would be muddied, but it couldn't be helped. She stared up the car, plugging her phone into the charger, and turned on the radio. She would need it to stay awake on the ride back to the village.

The lights were on downstairs when Mary got home. She frowned as she parked the car in the garage next to Tom's. What was he doing up at this time? He had work tomorrow... and oh, God, so did she.

Tom was already waiting for her in the kitchen when she stepped into the house. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, crossing the room to... hug her? Mary stood still as Tom pulled her close in his arms. She cringed to think of the mud that was going to end up on his light grey tee shirt. "I was so worried about you—"

"There was no need," Mary assured him, though she was touched he was so worried.

"You didn't answer your phone—"

"It died," she explained. She reached into her purse, where she had deposited it. "I haven't even turned it back on yet. See?" She clicked the buttons to prove it to him.

Tom didn't look any more at ease. "Well, you scared me. I thought something had happened to you. Please don't do that again." There were twin smudges of brown on his shirt. As she noticed this, he seemed to finally take note of her appearance. "What happened to you? Were you wrestling in the mud with that Blake fellow?"

"I told you, the pigs were going to die. They were dehydrated, so Charles and I had to give them some water." Mary kicked her shoes off, stared down at them, then picked them up and threw them in the bin.

"Charles?"

"Mr. Blake," she clarified quickly, deciding to do the same to her stockings. She was certain she had worn a hole in the soles... and sure enough, she was correct. It was with only slight embarrassment that she shimmied out of them in Tom's presence before they joined the shoes.

Tom frowned. "The dickhead who insulted you?" He said, repeating her exact phrase that she had referred to him as following the party.

"Yes... but he's actually quite decent. And he apologized for his behavior, which is something." It hit Mary how exhausted she felt. "I'd love to tell you everything right now, but I need to take a shower and go to bed. Can we talk in the morning, please? I need as much sleep as I can to function tomorrow." She felt terribly rude, dismissing him like this, but every second standing here explaining things was one second not spent in her bed.

Tom's eyes widened. "Of course!" He stepped aside. "But do you think it's a good idea to go in tomorrow?"

"I'll be fine," Mary said, not certain she would but unwilling to admit otherwise. "I want to hear all about your night, too, so be ready to tell me everything tomorrow," she told him before staggering up the stairs. She gripped the railing, her legs aching in protest. She couldn't believe she had done everything tonight in heels—

The warm shower was a blessing. Mary nearly fell asleep in the shower, it felt so wonderful. She only bothered to dry herself off before crawling under the covers of her bed, not even bothering with pajamas. She turned her phone on, plugging it into the charger.

Upon turning back on, Mary's phone revealed she had missed five calls from Tom, had several unread messages from him, mostly asking her where she was and if she was alright... and one text from an unknown number that read:

_Hey, this is Charles._

In spite of everything, Mary smiled before her eyes fell shut.


	5. Chapter 5

**New Normal**

**Chapter Five**

_June 23, 2014_

Mary awoke to a knocking at her bedroom door. Light was streaming in through her window. She didn't respond immediately, dimly aware of her surrounding. What time was it?

The knocking started again. Mary, who was stark naked, immediately panicked. "Just a minute!" She called out, rolling out of her bed. She scrambled over to her dresser... before realizing she didn't even know what time it was. Mary checked her phone, gasping when she saw it was 12:02 in the afternoon.

There was no time to worry about buttoning up blouses and zipping pants. Mary hastily fastened her bra on (not the muddy one from last night, that was currently in her laundry hamper), threw on a pair of clean panties, and reached for dress without a zipper. There were no important meetings so only Thomas would see her...

"Are you decent?" Tom called out from behind the door as Mary dragged a brush through her unruly hair.

Mary cursed under her breath as she caught a snarl. "Yes!"

The bedroom door swung open, revealing Tom in his pajamas. They were the same as the ones from last night, apart from the shirt, which he had replaced. George was in his arms. "Someone wanted his Mama and Uncle Tom wasn't a good enough substitute," he said, bouncing her squirming son in his arms. It took a moment before noticed her. "You're awfully dressed up."

"I'm late for work! Why didn't you wake me up?" Come to think of it... "Why aren't _you_ at work?"

"I called in," he answered. "I was up most of the night, worried sick about you. I was about ready to call the police."

Mary resisted rolling her eyes. It was sweet that he worried... thank God he hadn't. She tried to imagine the sirens blaring as they pulled up to the barn, only to find her and Charles wet and covered in mud.

"You slept through your alarm, so I knew you were too tired," Tom continued, "So I texted Thomas and told him about your misadventures. He promised to let you know about anything important and email you the relevant things."

Mary stopped brushing her hair. "That was completely unnecessary." Now she was annoyed, practically slamming her brush against the counter. George whined and wriggled in Tom's arms, so she reached for him.

"You were in no fit state to drive and neither was I," said Tom. "I actually thought about waking you and driving you in, but realized that it would be dangerous for both of us. Considering you're your own boss and mine doesn't care where I work as long as everything's in on time, I figured this was the best thing to do."

Come to think of it, Mary would have been mortified if Tom had barged into her room to wake her, considering her disregard for pajamas last night. Still, she couldn't help but feel irritated. "I can't slack off just because I'm tired."

"You were exhausted," corrected Tom. "Even I could see it. You put in plenty of hours devoted to the estate yesterday. You need a day off."

Mary wanted to argue with him, but George was in her arms and she was still fighting the tiredness from yesterday. "Fine," she grumbled, sitting down on her bed. The ache in her feet eased.

Tom didn't seem pleased but said, "I'm going to make some lunch. Cheese toasties okay?"

Mary nodded, pulling George close. Her son gurgled, placing a hand in his mouth. She wondered if more teeth were coming in now...

During lunch, Tom informed her of his evening... and the woman he had met there. Sarah Bunting was a primary school teacher who had gone to the event and managed to captivate his attention. Mary listened with interest, nodding and eating her sandwich intermittently before turning to George and offering him some baby food.

"So," she said slowly, "do you think you'll see her again?"

"Probably not." He smiled sheepishly. "I forgot to get her number."

Mary smiled back at him. "What a shame," she said, unable to muster up enough enthusiasm.

"What about Charles? Do you have his number now?" Tom asked, leaning across the table.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "I promised to treat him to some dinner as a thank you." When she noted his amused expression, "He's not as bad as I thought."

"That's a relief," said Tom. He paused before asking, "Do you like him? I mean... like that?"

Mary wasn't sure how to feel about that question... but the answer wasn't an outright no. "I don't know how to feel about him, to be perfectly honest," she admitted. "He's just a friend for now. That's all he could be." She hesitated. "What about Sarah? Do you like her?" It occurred too late to Mary that they sounded like a couple of children talking about their crushes on a playground.

Tom shrugged. "She was exactly my type on paper. But... I don't know. It seems almost impossible to think of anyone but Sybil that way."

Mary knew what he meant. No one could compare to Matthew in her eyes. "Do you think we'll ever feel that way again?" She asked, offering George another spoonful of food.

Tom contemplated for a moment. "Would you think me horrible if I said that I hope we don't?" Mary shook her head but Tom still clarified, "Sybil was special to me. She was the first woman I ever really loved— it was that all consuming kind of thing you only ever think you'll read about or see in a movie. But it was real for us. And I know you didn't approve at first, but the truth is we made each other happy." His eyes were far away. "And if I meet someone else and feel that way... I'm worried I'll forget what it was like with her. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," answered Mary. She wasn't stirring her coffee anymore. Instead, it was in her hands, the warmth seeping through to her skin. "I hope we don't, either," she said, not sure if she would regret what she was about to say. "We lost the most important person to us. Imagine if we found somebody like that again and then lost them?" She saw the pain invade his eyes, partially wishing she had said nothing and glad to know she wasn't alone. "I don't think I could bear it a second time."

"Nor I," Tom said. He paused, scrutinizing her before stating, "We understand each other," and meeting her gaze. He let out a self deprecating laugh. "God... why'd I ever listen to Edna when I had you?"

Mary wasn't sure what he meant by that. So she asked... and he explained everything. How he had gone to a pub one afternoon after work with some colleagues and meeting a pretty girl. She would walk over flirt with him, making her interest in him clearly known. He had brought her home one evening after one too many while her and Matthew were away on an anniversary trip and Sybbie was with her grandparents, only to break down and cry when he saw the picture of Sybil he kept on his nightstand. He told her to go home and never once went back to that pub. He told her his shock at learning she was working for his mother-in-law, trying to be friendly until she obtained his phone number.

"My God," breathed Mary, sickened by what she heard. He had thought far more optimistically of that woman than she deserved. "Tom, why didn't you say anything?"

"I was embarrassed... and ashamed," he admitted. "You were Sybil's sister..."

"I'm also your best friend," she said seriously. "Don't ever feel like you have to hide anything from me. Ever."

Tom smiled. "I know that now. But I wasn't as certain then."

Mary wished that hadn't been the case. Still, she wouldn't judge him too harshly. He had been the victim in all this... and she knew what it was to blame herself for something out of her control. "I'm surprised you didn't want the restraining order after all." The idea that she knew where they lived was more than a little disturbing to Mary, especially with George and Sybbie.

"We have locks on the doors."

"Still."

"Well, she's gone now. So we won't have to worry about her anymore."

That was some small relief. Mary only hoped she would stay far, far away from him.

* * *

_August 2, 2014_

It had taken some time to coordinate a time for the date— the date that wasn't a date. Nevertheless, Mary felt like it was a date. She was certainly going to the same effort she would if she was going on a date. Her hair had been curled, her mascara applied, she had picked out a little black dress... the final touch was bright red lipstick.

"Mama," George babbled from her bedroom. He was laying on her bed, contenting himself by crawling across her mattress. Mary was keeping a close eye on him. Tom and Sybbie were out grocery shopping but Tom was going to watch George once Charles appeared.

When Mary heard the insistent knocking at the front door, she frowned. She checked the time on her phone. It was only 6— he wasn't due until 6:30. Perhaps he was running early... "Let's go downstairs, George," Mary said, picking up her son. She suddenly could remember if Charles knew about him or not... He hadn't come up in their conversations yet.

Mary was shocked to open the door and reveal her sister. Tears were running freely down her face, smearing her make up. "Edith!" she cried out, alarmed at her appearance— both on her doorstep and in general.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's my house," answered Mary, offended. "What's the matter?"

Edith looked hesitant. "I can come back later—"

Mary sighed, holding George in one arm and using her free hand to grip her sister's wrist. "Come in," she ordered in the least welcoming tone possible. In fact, Mary was aware she sounded downright menacing. Nevertheless, it worked. Edith entered the house, sniffling. Mary closed the door behind her.

"Why are you dressed up?" asked Edith, using a paper towel to wipe her eyes and her smudged mascara.

"I had dinner plans." Mary used the past tense, figuring Edith's appearance at her doorstep didn't bode well for her evening out. "I take it you came here looking for Tom?" When Edith nodded, Mary asked, "Can I help?"

"I don't know," Edith answered, taking a seat at Tom's spot at the dining room table. It was generous to call it a dining room, considering it was just the empty space between the kitchen, closet, living room. "You usually don't want to help me."

Edith's pity parties were never something she wanted to indulge in, even when she didn't have something planned. Still, Mary figured if she was showing up at her house, things were dire... even if she was looking for Tom. Mary let out a sigh and held George out. "Will you hold him? I need to make a call." Edith merely nodded, accepting George. Mary briefly wondered if this was the first time she had held her nephew.

Explaining to Charles was difficult. "I am so sorry," she said inside her bathroom. She checked under the door to make sure Edith wasn't listening in. She had been known to do so before... she spoke candidly once she didn't see any feet in the gap between the floor and the door, she continued with, "I was really looking forward to it but a family thing has come up."

"A family thing?"

"It's not an emergency," she said with a wearily sigh. "My sister showed up bawling her eyes out. She never comes to me for anything so I know it must be bad." She bit the inside of her lip. "Can we reschedule?"

"Of course we can."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized again. "I feel so awful... you've come up all this way..." Charles lived in London and was making a special trip up to Yorkshire expressly for the dinner.

"I'll be alright, Mary." She tried to ignore the

fluttering in her stomach at the sound of her name in his voice. "I'll survive. I promise." He paused. "Will next week work?"

"We've a huge bazaar to plan... But you are more than welcome to come," she said, realizing that she wanted to see him, regardless of dinner or not. "Will you be busy the day after that? Maybe we could go on Sunday?"

"Alright. Sunday it is. That sounds good to me." She thought she detected the smile in his voice.

When Mary re-emerged, Edith was bouncing George on her lap, still looking sad but nowhere near as much. "So," Mary said, collecting her son from Edith's arms, "do you want to tell me everything now or wait until Tom comes home?"

Edith looked uneasy, biting her dry lips. "I don't know how to say it."

This air of mystery was infuriating. Nevertheless, Mary figured snapping at her wouldn't be effective. "I won't judge you," she offered, not sounding terribly genuine, but fairly confident Edith couldn't have done anything terribly scandalous.

That seemed to do it. Edith took in a shudder breath. "I'm pregnant," she said, looking up at Mary through red rimmed eyes.

Mary almost dropped George. Once she realized she was losing hold of him, she quickly recovered. "You're what?" She asked, heart still pounding in her chest with the rush of adrenaline that came from almost dropping one's child. When Edith repeated her news, Mary felt only slightly more stable. She walked over to George's high chair, setting him in it before taking her seat at the table. "God... It's Michael's?"

"Yes, of course it's Michael's!" exclaimed Edith, aghast. "God, Mary, how many men do you think I've been sleeping with?"

Truthfully, up until now, Mary had chosen to believe her sister wasn't sleeping with anybody. She certainly had preferred that to whatever this was... "Does he know?" Mary asked.

Edith's lower lip trembled. She didn't seem able to speak before nodding. A sob escaped her.

Mary didn't quite understand the reaction. What was so awful about this? Michael has always seemed like a stand-up gentleman, very courteous and caring. He certainly seemed to like Edith... "What is it? Has he said something awful?"

Edith shook her head, tears in her eyes. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore," she all but wailed. Her shoulders were shaking, now covering up her face as she wept in earnest.

Mary wasn't one for comforting people but even she knew Edith needed someone. She rose from her chair. She stood next to Edith's chair, patting her shoulder. "There, there," she said unconvincingly, not certain she was really comforting her sister, but not content to sit back and watch her cry. Edith didn't seem to be noticing her attempts, at any rate.

The door opened, revealing Tom and two bags full of groceries. "They didn't have the wine you liked, sor— Edith?"

"Are there anymore groceries?" Mary was eager to escape the situation as quickly as possible, through whatever means of groceries.

Tom nodded, silently questioning her. "There's one more bag in the car... and Sybbie, too, of course." She left Edith's side, walking to the door when Tom reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. "What's going on?" He murmured.

"She showed up here crying. She can tell you the rest," said Mary, still unable to quite process the fact her sister was pregnant and her supposedly loving boyfriend had no interest in their child. "Needless to say, I'm not going out with Charles tonight. I've canceled."

"I'm sorry," Tom said quietly, letting go of her arm. "I know you were looking forward to it."

Mary smiled wanly and shrugged. "We've rescheduled. I'll be fine." She walked out the door, ready to collect her niece and the remained of the groceries.

Sybbie was fast asleep in her car seat when Mary went to fetch her. She lifted her out, cradling her gently as to not disturb her. It took some maneuvering to open the door with a two year old and groceries, but somehow she managed. Sybbie only began stirring once they entered the house... likely because of the great fuss Edith was making. Oh, well... at least she had a short nap.

"I don't understand," Tom was saying, holding one of Edith's hands. "What do you mean Michael doesn't want to be involved? It's his baby, too!"

"It's not as a simple as that," Edith sniffled. Mary frowned, carrying Sybbie over to the table. "It's hard to explain but... well," she glanced nervously between the two of them before admitting, "He's married."

Mary felt her jaw drop. _Married_? "Did you know?" she demanded, all sympathy forgotten. "Before he knocked you up?"

Edith scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, please— like you're one to talk about fidelity."

Mary flinched, remembering the maelstrom of rumors that surrounded her, how Edith had ruined Mary's favorite lipstick to write the words _DIRTY SLUT_ on her locker as if they lived in a teen drama instead of the real world. At once, she felt incensed. "You have no idea what you're talking about, so keep your mouth shut!"

"Fighting with each other isn't going to get any of us anywhere," Tom said diplomatically before Edith could respond, yet casting stern looks at them both. He turned back to Edith, now no longer holding her hand. "Edith, did you know he was married?"

Mary watched her sister nod reluctantly. She felt sickened. "He... He said he was going to leave her. That he was looking to divorce her."

Mary couldn't resist scoffing. "Edith, this isn't a rom-com. This is real life. Married men who cheat on their wives cannot be trusted."

"Well, I know that now," she said, wiping away her tears. "And I wish I'd never started up with him, but..." Her eyes began growing watery again. "Now I don't know what to do!"

"Well, you have two options," Tom said levelly. "Are you going to keep the baby or not?"

"I want to keep it," said Edith, blinking back more tears. "I was actually going to— going to get an abortion just this afternoon but— I set up an appointment and everything and no one was ever going to know, but... but then I couldn't do it!"

"Have you thought about adopting the baby out?" suggested Tom.

Edith shook her head. "There's already enough children out there who need homes. I don't want to— and I want it. I want to raise it." She wiped her eyes. "I suppose I'll just have to accept that Papa won't approve... but then again, I've always been a disappointment to him."

Mary bit the inside of her lip. Edith had always had an inferiority complex; the typical middle child, stuck right between two independent sisters that managed to attract attention no matter what they did while she did her best to be responsible and live up to her parents expectations. With Mary and her boyfriends and Sybil and her political rallies, Edith hadn't been given nearly the same amount of attention in spite of her attempts to be a dutiful daughter. It was hard to blame her for thinking like that.

"He'll get over it," said Tom, offering a smile. "Take it from someone whose been there before."

"If he puts up a fight, I'll defend you," Mary found herself saying. "It's 2015; if you want a baby, why shouldn't you have one? Besides, you're a grown woman. Who cares what Papa thinks?"

"I do," insisted Edith. "He's my father. And I want my child to know their grandparents, just like Sybbie and George do!"

"He won't cut you out," Tom told her. Mary agreed; there was no guarantee Papa would take the news well, but he wasn't about to do anything to lose Edith. "Not over something like this."

"But what about my job? I can't work for him anymore!" Edith said, referring back to Michael.

"Work somewhere else... or start up your own magazine, like you've always talked about. You've more than enough money for that now," suggested Mary.

Edith sniffled. "I know I have plenty of options... but I just feel like I don't know what happening next. My life isn't the same anymore."

* * *

"You didn't have to do that," said Mary, helping Tom set up the couch with sheets and some pillows. Knowing it was getting late for Edith catch the train back to London, Tom had nobly offered her his bed in a show of chivalry.

"Of course I did. She's pregnant," Tom reminded her, as if their entire evening hadn't been consumed by it.

Mary supposed it would have been in bad taste to make Edith be the one to sleep on the couch and Mary certainly hadn't been willing to offer her own bed up... but Downton was practically down the road. Edith's childhood bedroom, like Mary's and Sybil's, was practically a shrine to them. There were countless bedroom there for her to stay in that didn't involve kicking anyone out of their own bed.

"I'm sorry about your date, by the way."

"It wasn't a date," Mary replied automatically. "But I'm sorry too. I hope he doesn't think I'm rude."

Tom shook his head. "Choosing the spend an evening comforting your sister instead of having fun speaks highly of you, I think. I'm sure you'll be rewarded for your good deed in some way." It sounded as if he were teasing her.

Mary scoffed. "I don't know if I'd make the choice again. I was next to useless trying to comfort her. It was all you."

Tom smiled before flopping down on the couch. "Well, thanks. For the compliment and helping me set all this up."

"Of course." Mary was halfway to the stairs. "I won't even say _I told you so_ when you wake up with a stiff neck and sore back tomorrow."

He laughed. "Goodnight."

"Night," she echoed before climbing the darkened stairwell.

* * *

_August 9, 2014_

The appearance of Tony Gillingham at the bazaar was a shock for Mary, who had been contenting herself in the tent eating cake with Charles. "I've just seen a friend," she found herself saying, rising to her feet. "Will you please excuse me? I'll be back in a minute."

"Of course," said Charles.

Mary gave him a grateful smile before weaving through the crowd of people. Tony was over by oak tree, hands in his pockets, and in a brown suit. Oddly enough, it complemented his features nicely. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said with a smile, hoping things were alright between them. They hadn't spoken to one another since the disaster about leaving Mabel for her. "How are you?"

"Much better, now that I've seen you." Tony met her eyes, smiling. "Your mother invited me and I wanted a chance to come see you. In person. I think we communicate much better that way than over the phone."

"Tony," began Mary, "I'm so sorry, but I'm not ready to move on yet. It hasn't even been full year since Matthew passed..."

"I know," he interrupted. He offered her a smile before saying, "And I understand. And I respect that." Tony took in a deep breath before saying, "I've actually come here to tell you some news. This is exclusive, so you can't tell anyone," he said, in almost a teasing tone, before dropping the bombshell, "Mabel and I aren't marrying after all."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh my... I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said with a shrug. "I'm not. I was the one who made the choice." Tony leaned against the tree. "It wasn't the life for me. For ages I was this secret she hid away and I had to sit back and watch her flirt with other men and be in PR relationships to boost ratings for her stupid show." There was more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. "And then suddenly I was thrust in the middle of it all. Paparazzi following me to work, media people trying to get ahold of me to know all these trivial things like Mabel's favorite kind of ice cream... I couldn't take it anymore. So I broke it off."

It sounded like a stressful life. Mary no longer felt envious of Mabel's lavish lifestyle if that was the sort of pressure on her. "Well, I am sorry. Really. I wish it could have worked out."

Tony smiled sadly. "Don't feel too bad for me. You see... I meant what I said, Mary. I'm always thinking about you." She was stunned by his forwardness. "I haven't felt like that with Mabel in ages. I should have broke it off then, before I proposed. It would have saved her a great deal of heartache. But you... you're different. I don't know why, but you are." Before Mary could reiterate her feelings for Matthew, he hastily said, "I know you aren't ready to move on. I respect that. So I wanted you to know that... that once you are ready to take that step, I'll be waiting for you."

Mary blinked, stunned by his admission. "I'm afraid you may have to wait quite a long time," she told him.

Tony smiled. "Good thing I'm a patient man." He quickly turned serious. "I mean it, Mary. No matter how long it takes. Next month, next year... whenever."

She was astonished. What was so special about her? "You barely know me," she insisted.

"And yet I already feel so strongly about you. I'm not much one for fate, but... I can already imagine spending the rest of my life with you."

Mary was relieved when she heard someone approach them. It was Charles, Mary's plate of cake in his hand, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was looking right at Tony. "I thought it was you!" He exclaimed before smacking his good naturedly on the arm. "How've you been?"

"You know each other?"

"We went to school together," clarified Tony before returning the smile and shaking his hand. "How do you two know one another?"

"Charles saved my pigs from a terrible end," Mary told him, glancing back and forth between them with uncertainty. The two men exchanged greetings, asking one another what they had been up to and how life had been treating them.

Things only turned awkward when Charles asked, "How's Mabel doing? Congratulations on the engagement, by the way. I know I told her, but—"

Charles knew Mabel? Mary felt as if she was spinning when Tony sadly said, "We've actually called things off."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How awful," Charles said genuinely. Mary wondered if he would be as sincere if he knew Tony had done so with Mary in mind.

Tony shook his head. "We weren't a good fit anymore."

"Really?" Charles cocked his head to the side. "When I ran into Mabel the other day, she acted like everything was fine. Actually... come to think of it, she seemed happier than I've ever seen her. Did something come up?"

"Just the pressures of show business. I'm not meant for her kind of life," Tony said uncomfortably, glancing at Mary.

Charles smiled sadly. "Few are. I'm sorry. Truly."

"I'll be alright," Tony assured him. "But I'm afraid I need to go. I have to be back in London soon." He glanced back over to her, their eyes locking. "It was nice to see you again, Mary." There was still that promise in his gaze.

"How do you know him?" Charles asked as she finished up her cake, a few minutes after Tony had departed.

"He's an old family friend. We've only just recently reacquainted." She licked the icing off her lips. "How do you know Mabel?"

"Practically the same way. My sister was best friends with her in primary school. They keep in touch, though." He smiled. "She's actually been on the show a couple of times. They meet up for lunch and there's a whole camera crew hovering over them, watching as they eat their salads."

Mary smiled, amused. "What's she like?" She asked, hoping that she wasn't as nice as she had heard. Knowing she had played a minute part in someone else's heartbreak didn't set right with her, but perhaps the guilt could be assuaged by learning some hideous fact about her...

"Big fan?"

"Just curious."

"She's rather feisty... she almost always has the right answer for everything... She can be a little cool when you first meet her but she is nice once you get to know her." Charles smiled ever so slightly, studying Mary out of the corner of his eye. "She reminds me of you, actually."

Mary felt even worse than she had before.

* * *

_August 28, 2014_

One week had passed since George's first birthday. A celebration had been held with family and their closest friends, much to her son's delight. Mary had very hesitantly invited Charles, who had not only gladly come but brought a gift as well.

As happy a time it was, Mary couldn't help but think of Matthew. He should have been here...

The following week had been hell. Matthew had officially been dead for over a year. Their son's birthday would always be the cruel reminder that he wasn't going to be there for all those important milestones, that Mary would never be able to grow old with him...

To make it even worse was that his birthday was rapidly approaching in two days. He would have been twenty nine... only he would be twenty seven forever, a tragically short life just when it had really begun...

Thomas understood why she had grown so reticent, why cups of coffee were either drunk without thought or left untouched. He didn't trouble her with the bookings for upcoming school visits or bother her with silly, trivial questions. He handled things silently and efficiently, just as she liked it. After being her friend for several years, Thomas understood Mary's standards perfectly.

She was practically dead on her feet when she stumbled home, glad that Tom had already picked up the kids. Mary has purchased an almost indecent amount of alcohol for one person and a pint of ice cream she refused to share before staggering into the house... but she was quickly startled by the woman sitting at her dining room table.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded, horrified by the stranger sitting in her spot. She had auburn hair, was looking down at her phone, and wore a pair of thick, black glasses.

"I'm Sarah," she said, glancing up with a frown. "Who are you?"

"I'm the owner of this house. Please explain to me why you're doing here." Mary was already pulling out her phone, ready to call 999 if absolutely necessary.

Sarah frowned again. "Are you Mary, by any chance?" Automatically thinking about a stranger digging around in her mail, she began hastily began dialing, just as Sarah said, "I'm here with Tom. We're going on a date?"

Mary was glad she hadn't hit the call button. She let out a sigh of relief, glad to know an absolute freak hadn't broken into her home. "You could have just said, you know," Mary said, stuffing the phone back into her pocket.

"I thought Tom would have told you," Sarah said. "Doesn't he inform you on the things going on in his life?"

Mary didn't appreciate the tone this woman was taking with her. "Of course he does. It just slipped my mind." He had mentioned it shortly after George's party, asking her to look after Sybbie and George. Mary had been hopeful things would go well— after all, it seemed rather romantic, losing touch with a pretty girl only to bump into her at the grocery store. It hadn't occurred to her that Tom's date would actually come to their house. "I thought he was picking you up."

"I know how to drive myself. Why would I need him to drive me?" asked Sarah, cocking her head to the side. She acted as if Mary was completely dense... which she did not appreciate.

"It's better for the environment to carpool, for a start," Mary said in that faux cheery tone she liked to adopt when speaking to someone she found extremely tiresome. "And you know Tom— he loves his car. I figured he'd want a chance to show it off."

"Actually, I didn't know that." Mary couldn't help but smile, pleased she had disarmed this irritating woman. "What's so special about it?"

"Don't you think that's a question better suited for Tom?" countered Mary. "It will give you something to talk about on your date."

Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry. I don't think Tom and I will have trouble coming up with things to talk about." She almost made conversing sound indecent. "I'm more interested in his political opinions than his car, anyway."

"That's right. You met at that fundraising event for the liberal MP."

"Yes... the one you were supposed to be at."

Mary's short nails were digging into her palm. So far, Mary had found no redeeming qualities about this woman. Who did she think she was? "I was busy that evening. I was sorry I missed it."

"Were you really?" asked Sarah. "What issue were you looking forward to hearing about?"

Mary shrugged. "I didn't have any issue in mind, particularly. I just felt bad abandoning Tom, that's all." Speaking of Tom, where was he? She had a pint of ice cream that she wanted to devour and a woman she wanted gone.

Sarah's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Oh? So you don't like to be informed on what our political leaders are doing?"

"I do, but I'm not interested in it like some are."

"Who do you vote for, then?" she asked offhandedly.

Mary's jaw clenched as she fixed her with a cool look. "I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"It's not," agreed Sarah. "I'm only curious... I just find it hard to believe your views and Tom's mesh well together. I would imagine it would lead to a disharmonious atmosphere when you have to live together."

Mary didn't tell her that they actually agreed on a number of issues. She didn't hold the same view on socialism as he did, but when they weren't focusing on economics, they were similarly aligned. "We like living together. It's proved a wonderful arrangement for us both. Nobody _has_ to live here," she said, fixing Sarah with a cool look.

"Mary!" Tom began walking down the steps, his footfalls loud and causing the stairs to creak. He was dressed in a white button up and jeans, hair done immaculately. Mary couldn't help but think he cleaned up rather nicely. "Good, you're home. George was cranky, so he's taking a nap. If you wake him up in about an hour, he'll still go to bed for us. Oh, and Sybbie is watching a movie on the iPad. Neither of them have ate dinner yet."

Mary nodded. She hadn't either... She supposed demolishing the pint of ice cream wasn't going to be a satisfactory dinner. She would need to make something... in all likelihood, her and the children would be eating sandwiches. It was one of the few things she wouldn't burn. "Anything else?"

"Don't think so," said Tom, offering Sarah his arm. "We should be home before eleven, I think, at the latest."

"We?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. She hoped it sounded more teasing than judgmental— Mary wasn't about to shame Tom for seeking out some companionship, not even on a first date, but she questioned if he really wanted to spend it with _that_ woman in particular.

"I mean I," Tom said hastily, glancing at Sarah. Twin splotches of color appeared on his cheeks. It was actually rather endearing... Mary found herself smiling. "I meant I. But Sarah'll be dropping me off."

"I'll be sure to have him home before curfew," said Sarah, making an attempt for humor after the awkward proceeding. Mary supposed it must be rather embarrassing to be essentially turned down before even going out on the date.

Had Sarah been more pleasant before Tom came downstairs, she might have played along. "I'm not his keeper," Mary said instead, as though she were shocked such a thing could be insinuated. "Go out and have a good time, Tom. You deserve it."

Tom beamed. "Thanks. I'll be back in a while."

"It was nice meeting you," Sarah called out over her shoulder, clearly for Tom's benefit. Mary suspected Sarah liked her just as much as she liked Sarah— which was to say not at all.

"Likewise," Mary replied. When the door closed, the scowl she had been holding back found its way onto her face. She skulked to the kitchen, shoving her ice cream into the freezer, and opened the fridge, trying to find something suitable for dinner.

* * *

"'Nother bite?" Sybbie's bright blue eyes peered up her. They weren't like Sybil's— they were closer to Tom's, but like her mother's, they were impossible to resist.

"Your Daddy might get mad at me," said Mary. When Sybbie continued to pout, giving Mary a sad look, she sighed. "Oh, alright. One more bite." She took the spoon from her niece's hand, making sure to get a piece of cookie dough on the spoon, before handing it to her.

"More, Mama?" George was looking at her with wide eyes of his own.

"You're lucky you're both cute," said Mary with a sigh, replenishing his spoon with a small scoop of the vanilla ice cream. How could she have ever thought she could get away without sharing it, especially when she lived with the world's most adorable children? They made it so hard to say no.

Mary took one last spoonful for herself before reaching for the lid. "All done for all of us," she said, rising to her feet and hurrying to the freezer. If she ate anymore, she would no doubt lose control.

"One more?" George asked, toddling after her into the kitchen. He was only in his nappy, spoon still in his hand.

"No more," said Mary. When he stared up her blankly, she said, "It's all gone."

George dropped his spoon on the floor, letting out a wail. "Damn it," muttered Mary, before remembering she wasn't supposed to curse in front of the children, now that they could speak. "Oh, shit." She winced again before picking up her son and his dirty spoon. "It's alright, George. It's okay. We can have more ice cream tomorrow." She doubted he would even remember this tomorrow, which was why she even bothered to say it.

"Want now!"

"You can't have anymore now." She glanced at the time at the clock. Bedtime had been fifteen minutes ago... "Sybbie," she called out, looking into the living room where her niece was attempting to climb on the back of the couch. Immediately jumping to the worst case scenario (which included Sybbie falling off, cracking her head open, getting a concussion and requiring stitches, then explaining to Tom how his daughter came to be injured in her care), Mary ran across the room. "Sybbie, no!" She cried out, guiding her niece back to the couch. "It's time for bed, both of you."

George screamed and cried and Sybbie reluctantly followed Mary into the bathroom, where she helped them brush their teeth. At one point, George ripped his toothbrush out of his mouth and threw it on the floor, all while yelling, "Want more now!" Thankfully, by the time they made it to the bedroom, George was running out energy. He was practically asleep by the time Mary lowered him into his crib.

"Right," breathed Mary, studying her now sleeping son. She turned to find Sybbie, standing near her bed. "It's your turn now. Thank you for being so patient."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you were a very good girl when George was upset," said Mary, helping her out on her clothes and into her pajamas. "You waited your turn." Sybbie seemed to ruminate over that. "Do you like your big girl bed?" Mary asked before helping her into the bed itself. It was a twin sized mattress and the bed frame sat low to the ground, in case she were to fall out in the night. Tom had fretted so much the first couple of night, basically building an extra bed made of pillows, stuffed animals, blankets, and a sleeping bag to cushion any potential falls. It had been sweet, watching him fret like a mother hen.

Sybbie nodded. "Where is Daddy?"

"He's out with Sarah tonight." She wasn't sure if Sarah had met the children yet or not.

"I want to say night night to Daddy." Poor Sybbie looked so sad... Mary was sure she missed him. "When is he home?"

"He'll be home in a little while. But you need to go to bed."

Sybbie was close to tears now. "What if I promise to send him up to give you a goodnight kiss?" asked Mary, resting her arms on Sybbie's bed. When that suggestion didn't seem to be enough, Mary sighed. "Hold on."

_MARY: Can you call me really quick? It'll only be for a minute or two._

Mary distracted Sybbie with a bedtime story before Tom finally called. "Hello?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No... but someone missed their father and wants to say goodnight to him before she goes to bed." Mary's lips twitched. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

She handed the phone over to Sybbie, only hearing one side of the conversation. It was rather sweet... Sybbie still seemed confused but at ease by the time the call was over. "There. Do you feel better now?"

Sybbie shrugged her shoulders. Mary supposed it wasn't the same as having the real thing... it was something they probably needed to work on. "Goodnight, darling," Mary said regardless, leaning down to kiss both of her cheeks. She usually only kissed one, but figured she deserved an extra one tonight. "Sleep tight."

"Night night, Mary. Love you," Sybbie said sleepily.

"I love you, too." Mary smiled before shutting off the lights. The night light turned on automatically and she closed the door behind her.

Half an hour later, Mary sitting in front of the television and watching the end of _The Notebook._ Why she was torturing herself by watching it, Mary had no idea. The end took on a whole other meaning after having lost one's spouse... Mary dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. It only took her a moment or two to realize she wasn't alone.

"What are you doing down here? You're supposed to be in bed."

"Why are you crying?" asked Sybbie, stuffed bear tucked under her arm and looking at Mary with those wide eyes.

"I asked first." Mary sat up before pulling her onto her lap.

"Are you sad?"

"A little," admitted Mary. "But I'm okay. Sometimes it feels good to cry."

"I don't like crying."

"I don't, either," said Mary, wiping her eyes again. "But sometimes we need to." She looked down at the little girl. "Why are you awake? It's awfully late for little girls like you."

"I want to see Daddy."

Mary sighed. She was as stubborn as both her mother and her father— a lethal combination, if ever there was one. "Very well," said Mary, letting her sit on her lap. "We can wait up for him."

But by the time Tom had come home, Sybbie was fast asleep and the movie was over. "What's she doing?" he asked upon seeing Sybbie in Mary's arms. "I thought..."

"She wanted to wait up for you," whispered Mary, careful not to disturb her. "She didn't quite make it. I didn't see the point of forcing her back in bed, not when I knew she would come back down a few minutes later."

Tom smiled down at her before taking her into his arms. Sybbie didn't even stir. "She's wonderful, isn't she?" Mary nodded, tired herself, but unable to refute what he was saying. Sybbie was a darling.

"Are you okay? You like you've been crying..." Tom trailed off. "Shit. I forgot it was coming up."

"This is thanks to the acting talents of Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams, actually," Mary said, gesturing to her face. "But... a little bit because of Matthew."

Tom seemed torn, glancing between his daughter and her. "I'd give you a hug, but—"

"I'm fine, Tom. Get her to bed. You can tell me about your date in the morning." She smiled before saying, "It'll do me good to take my mind off of things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A couple quick things about this chapter:
> 
> 1) I like Michael Gregson and his relationship with Edith so I hated making him a villain here, but I felt like this was the easiest way to translate the story to the modern day. 
> 
> 2) Keep in mind Mary isn't necessarily the most reliable narrator, especially when it comes to Sarah Bunting! I've had a lot of fun writing their interactions, as Sarah is a fun character to write and gets under Mary's skin so easily.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Six**

_October 22, 2014_

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." Mary speared a green bean with a fork. She was sitting at a nice restaurant in London, a string of lights hanging over their heads.

"What are we?"

Mary glanced up at him. "We're friends, aren't we?" She asked, meeting his eyes.

Charles smiled back at her. "I'd say we are... but I want to be honest with you." Mary took in a deep breath before he said, "I like you, Mary. A lot. As in... More than a friend. And I don't know if you feel the same way." Before she could say anything, Charles said, "Look— I'm not expecting anything from you. There's no hidden obligations— I know you miss Matthew a lot. I would never want you to think I was trying to replace him. But I do like you... and if you want to be my girlfriend, I'd be very glad. And that's all it would be."

Mary was stunned. It had been a very long time since someone had asked her to be that... and strangely enough, it didn't seem too soon. "Charles, I— I like you, too. But... but I don't know when I'll be ready to marry again or have more kids..."

Charles smiled. "Neither do I. All I know is that I want to spend more time with you. I like being your friend... but I'd like to be more, if that's an option."

Mary mulled it over for a moment or two. "Alright," she said, without as much hesitation as she thought she might. "Let's do this, then."

Charles beamed. "You mean it?"

"I do." Mary realized how close it sounded to a wedding vow when he leaned closer to her. Before he could ask, she whispered, "You can."

The kiss was short yet sweet... literally. His chicken was glazed with honey and the taste lingered on his lips. When he pulled apart, his eyes were full of adoration. Mary found she quite liked it. "I'm glad we'll be doing that more often," he said, almost breathlessly, causing Mary to smile. It wasn't as awkward as thought it would be, no pressure to make it more than it was... She was glad.

* * *

_October 28, 2014_

_PAPA: Why Are Sybbie And George Calling Me Donk_

_MARY: I took them over to our petting zoo the other day and showed them the animals. The donkey's name is Bob and Sybbie realized it sounded like Robert._

_PAPA: Tell Them To Stop_

_MARY: Just ignore it, Papa. You know what children are like. If they see it bothers you, they'll keep it up._

_PAPA: I Am Not A Donkey  
_

* * *

_November 6, 2014_

"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" asked Anna, pulling a black dress off the rack before grimacing and putting it back.

"I promise I'm not," insisted Mary. "She's a menace!" Her arms were full of clothes she didn't need but wanted regardless... or at least clothes she wanted to try on.

They were discussing Sarah Bunting, Mary's latest nemesis. It seemed cruel to pick on Edith, considering she was pregnant, so the one person in her life that seemed fair game was Tom's girlfriend. The animosity between them had only heightened since she made herself a regular fixture in his life. At least once a week, Mary found the woman lounging around her house, always on her phone and only looking up so she could harass Mary. They always put on a veneer of politeness for Tom's sake, but before he appeared, there was a series of backhanded compliments and jibes back and forth. It was intellectually stimulating, Mary would give her that, but she always felt like tearing her hair out after a conversation with Sarah.

"But Tom likes her?" Anna asked, holding up a skirt.

Mary sighed. "Apparently. She's often over enough." Mary had hoped the visits would taper down once school started up again and Sarah was more busy with work, but unfortunately she wasn't that lucky.

"Aren't you happy for him?" Anna stopped browsing, giving her a meaningful look. "I'm not saying that to be rude but... aren't you glad he's found someone?"

"I'm glad he's found someone... I just wish he had found a different someone." Obviously, no woman in the world could ever compare to Sybil in Mary's eyes— in her mind, no one else could come as close to perfection as her sister. She was intelligent, effortlessly kind, beautiful... Mary was sure Sarah Bunting had her virtues but thus far she hadn't seen any of them. How could he see her as an adequate substitute for Sybil was beyond Mary. "I think he could do better, that's all." Tom could have any number of women, someone intelligent and easy going... at the very least, he could date someone with some manners.

Anna gave her a dubious look, one Mary didn't notice, before returning to the clothes. "How is your love life?"

Mary couldn't resist smiling. Things weren't exactly perfect— With Charles in London, they didn't see one another as often as they liked. Still, in a way, it was nice to have some physical distance between one another. Nevertheless, they kept in contact with one another. Calling another the evenings had become a common ritual, the call usually ending once one of them fell asleep. "It's going well."

Anna beamed. "I'm glad for you. Really." Her eyes twinkled. "And I know Matthew would be, too."

Mary had to blink to stop herself from crying. It was such a sweet sentiment... but sometimes she wondered how true it really was. "How's the latest book coming along?" asked Mary, thinking of Anna's upcoming thriller. Her first book had sold well; it wasn't at the top of the best seller's list, by any means, but she had made a profit and created an eager fan base.

Anna beamed. "It's going well. I've only written about two chapters so far but... I have time."

"What's this one about? Or can't you say?"

"I can... but I'd like to keep in surprise. I'll only say someone will be wrongfully sentenced for a crime they didn't commit."

Mary's eyes widened. "How intriguing. I'm looking forward to it." She had never realized Anna's talent for writing until she had picked up her first novel. She let Anna ramble on about the process, about some the idea she had, simply enjoying time spent with her best friend.

* * *

_November 17, 2014_

"So what do you think?"

Mary bit her lip. Tickets to the symphony sounded marvelous... it was the sort of romantic thing she had daydreamed about in class. The closest she had ever gotten to fulfilling it was a concert with Matthew for some local band that hadn't been that great, but their time spent at it had. "I wish I could," she said apologetically. "But Tom's birthday is that day."

"Oh." Charles was silent on the other end. Mary raised a spoonful of yogurt to her lips. "Are you having a party?"

"No," said Mary, putting the spoon back in the cup and stirring around. "He's not big on parties, I'm afraid, and it isn't exactly a milestone birthday. He just wants a nice evening at home with the kids."

"What about his girlfriend?"

Mary gritted her teeth. "She'll be there, too." Sarah was actually planning on cooking them dinner— Mary felt this was almost certainly a recipe for disaster. She wasn't sure when the best point to mention her allergy to tree nuts was for fear Sarah would sneak them into whatever she was making out of spite.

"Do you think maybe I could come? We could let them go out somewhere, we could watch the kids..."

Mary shook her head, even though Charles couldn't see her. "He insisted he wanted to stay home. I offered to go out and do something—" (She had specifically told him she could run up to London and see Charles) "—but he wants me there, too. And I don't see how I can argue with that, not when it's his birthday."

Charles sighed. "Alright. I'll give the tickets to someone else." Mary felt guilty. "I'll give them to Evelyn," he seemed to decide. "He'll like that."

"Oh?" asked Mary, curiosity piqued. "Does he have a girlfriend, now?"

"No... but he talks a lot about some girl. He used to date her ages ago and he's never said her name, but I guess she's really lovely. Maybe he can win her back."

Mary felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. _Don't be vain,_ she told herself, _it's probably not you._ "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You've every right to schedule plans. Besides... we normally don't meet up on Sundays, anyway."

Still, Mary couldn't help but feel guilty. "I'll come up with some way to make it up to you."

"I'm looking forward to it." She smiled ever so slightly. "Listen, I've got to go— my break's almost over."

"Mine, too, really," said Mary, eyeing the time on her clock. Officially, her lunch break ended whenever she decided as she was the one in charge. Unofficially, it ended as soon as Thomas returned from lunches with Jimmy. "I'll talk to you later. Maybe we can do something next weekend?"

"Sounds good. Love you."

Mary nearly dropped her phone. Before she could even think of saying anything, he had already hung up. Mary wasn't sure if the last part was intentional or not... but she was taken aback, to say the very least.

Was it possible, for him to love her already? They'd known each other only a few months— only about five, if Mary's math was correct. They'd only been dating for roughly a month... How could someone fall in love so fast?

Then again, when it came to love, Mary was painfully slow. She never realized until it was too late just how much she cared for a person and it took her by surprise every time— it hadn't been until Matthew invited her to meet his mother that she realized she was in too deep.

She sighed, wondering who or if she should mention this to anyone before throwing away her garbage and returning to work. Thomas returned five minutes later, a noticeable spring in his step, and neither of them talked about the state of their love lives.

* * *

_November 23, 2014_

"I'm so sorry," apologized Sarah, but Mary wasn't sure if she really meant it or not. "I completely forgot you weren't supposed to have these!"

Mary smiled, an unconvincing one, but looked up from the desert, topped with almonds. At least she hadn't tried hiding them inside only to 'remember' after Mary had eaten several bites. "That's alright. I'm full already." She understood now why Sarah had insisted upon making her signature desert instead of a traditional birthday cake.

"Maybe you could pick off the nuts on top," suggested Tom as Sarah cut him a piece of... whatever it was.

"I used almond flour, too," Sarah said, wincing, though Mary questioned how genuine it was. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking— I try to limit my gluten intake—"

She carried on in that vein for a while as Mary essentially twiddled her thumbs, feeling very much like a third wheel. "I can take care of the dishes," she decided, no longer wanting to sit around and watch them eat and flirt and laugh... the sight of it was growing nauseating.

"You don't have to do that," insisted Tom, now pulling his eyes away from Sarah. "I can take care of it."

"You'll do no such thing. It's your birthday." Mary gathered up all the dirty dishes. Dinner itself had been bearable— Sarah had basically made some sort of vegetarian dish that Mary had made a great show of adding heaps of salt and pepper to without even tasting it first. She had gone a little overkill on the pepper, forced to take gulps of water when no one was looking.

As the couple talked in the kitchen— something about Sarah's work and whatnot. It was frightfully tedious and Mary was glad she wasn't forced to sit there and smile and nod. She scrubbed at the dishes, irritated by Sarah's continued presence here. She knew she ought to just tell Tom how she felt about his girlfriend but didn't want to come across as spiteful or trying to stand in the way of his happiness.

Sarah went home after an hour or two, much to Mary's relief. "So... how does twenty nine feel?" The children were in bed and they were lounging on the couch together.

"Not much different from twenty eight, if I'm being honest." Tom took a sip of wine.

"Hmm. Well, I suppose that's something to look forward to." Her own twenty-ninth birthday would be in March. It hit her, how strange it would be in the not so distant future to turn thirty without Matthew being there.

"I'm sorry about the dessert thing. I hope you know she didn't mean it," Tom said apologetically.

Mary reached for her own wine, mostly to stop herself from saying something she would regret, like questioning if Sarah liked her or not. At present, she was thinking how awful it was, that Tom felt the need to apologize for her behavior, on his birthday of all days. "I'm sure it was," was all she said when she sat her glass back down.

They started talking about other things— the news, Edith's baby, the podcast Tom had started listening to... all of which that somehow lead to Mary confessing, "Charles told me he loves me."

Tom's eyes widened. "Did he? When?"

"A week ago," admitted Mary. "I didn't say it back..." She paused. "Don't you think it's a little soon?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't think putting a timing on these things is the best way to look at it. You've known one another for a while now."

"It just seems fast to me." She wasn't ready to fall in love— she could handle dates and kisses and going back to his place to take things a little further, but she wasn't ready for _love_.

Tom frowned. "How long did it take you to fall for Matthew?"

"Two and a half years... but honestly I probably did long before then, I was just too stubborn to realize it." Their first year of knowing one another had been spent as competitors in a classroom at uni and trading insults with one another before striking a truce at the end of the semester and becoming friends. When he asked her out when they returned to school in the autumn, Mary had been pleased yet surprised, but agreed, realizing she didn't dislike him at all.

Tom's eyes widened. "Well, I told Sybil I loved her before we started dating."

Mary's eyes widened. "You did?" He nodded, a bit sheepishly. "But why?"

"Because I loved her."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you wait?"

Tom shrugged. "I wanted her to know how I felt."

It struck Mary then just how dissimilar they were. She could never envision telling someone she loved them before she knew they felt the same about her. There was a time and a place to deliver such news, a right timing. And one month into a relationship was far too soon for her... and so was before a relationship had properly begun. "Well, I don't think I love him yet," admitted Mary, crossing her legs.

"That's alright," Tom assured her. "I don't love Sarah yet."

"Does she love you?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't think so. If she has, she hasn't said anything."

Mary glanced at him dubiously before reaching for her wine yet again. "Just because she hasn't said doesn't mean she doesn't love you," she warned him, thinking of herself and the silly games she used to play with Matthew that seemed to be part of who she was. The last thing she wanted was for Tom to end up in a sticky situation.

Tom seemed relatively unaffected. "What did you tell Charles? Just so I know how to react if she takes me by surprise."

Mary shrugged. "I didn't say anything. He just said it at the end of a call. He hasn't said anything about it since... maybe he said it on accident," she said, thinking aloud.

Tom grinned. "Maybe he ends all his calls like that."

"Maybe," Mary said, laughing. It wasn't such a big deal... and it was nice to speak to someone who understood.

* * *

_December 1, 2014_

Thomas came into the office late, humming _It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year_ , and Starbucks in his hand... and with one for her. "Good morning," he said, depositing it on her desk.

"Someone's in the holiday spirit already. I didn't realize you liked Christmas so much." She took a sip, surprised that Thomas had opted to give her a mocha today instead of black coffee. Still, she wasn't about to complain about a free drink, though.

"What can I say? I've turned over a new leaf." Thomas continued humming, starting up his laptop.

Mary narrowed her eyes, taking another sip. "Something's happened," she concluded. Thomas glanced up sheepishly, stopping mid chorus. "What is it?"

"Who says anything's happened?"

"Thomas."

He let out a sigh. "Jimmy and Ivy broke up."

"Oh." Mary blinked. She wouldn't have expected that... but then again, it seemed like the sort of thing Thomas would celebrate. Truthfully, she had never had cause to celebrate the end of someone else's relationships— she had always envied Lavinia for having Matthew in that period of time after they had broken up, but she couldn't bring herself to truly dislike the woman. When they had broken up, she had mainly felt too sorry for Matthew to feel glad for herself.

But then again... if Tom broke up with Sarah this month, she'd consider it a Christmas present. Maybe she would bring in a treat of her own to the office.

* * *

_December 13, 2014_

"Tom?" asked Mary as she cleared the dishes away. When he glanced up from the sink, she asked, "You aren't inviting Sarah over for Christmas, are you?"

"No. I wasn't planning on it," Tom said, scrubbing at a plate.

Mary let out a relieved sigh. "Good," she said, without thought. When Tom gave her a strange look, she quickly lied, "I only ask because I'm not going to ask Charles over. I thought it might be too soon... I didn't want things to be awkward, with one of us inviting someone and the other..." She trailed off, fairly confident her answer had been satisfactory enough.

Tom seemed to accept her answer, nodding before returning to the dishes. She began drying off the clean ones, placing them in the cupboards. "Do you like her?" When Mary turned to look at him, he clarified, "Sarah. Do you like her?"

"I like that she makes you happy."

"That's not the answer to the question I asked," Tom said, but he didn't sound upset. If anything he was amused, which was relief. "Do you?"

Mary bit back a sigh. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? "We don't exactly have complementing personalities, Tom. I don't despise her, but we'll never be friends." She bit her inside lip before glancing at him. "I'm sorry."

Tom shook his head. "No, it's fine." Still, she couldn't help but feel guilty. "Just... try to be nice to her. She means a lot to me."

Mary ignored the irritation she felt at that request. "I promise to be as nice to her as she is to me," replied Mary, narrowing her eyes.

* * *

_December 24, 2014_

The stockings were placed over the rarely used fireplace. "It's strange... this time next year, Edith'll have a little one of her own," said Tom, smiling as Mary finishing hanging George's up over the mantle place.

"They can't stay here," said Mary flatly. "This house isn't big enough for more than four."

Tom rolled his eyes good naturedly. "I imagine she'll stay with your parents, just as always. I'm sure they'll love to have her and the baby."

Edith knew the sex by now, of course. It was to be a little girl, but she hadn't decided on names yet. Mary hated to admit it, but Edith had adjusted to pregnancy and impending motherhood nicely. It had taken her ages to mourn the loss of her relationship with Michael Gregson, but he had made his lack of involvement quite clear. Mama and Papa had responded far better to Edith's announcement than they had to Sybil's, which seemed to indicate some growth on Papa's part. Edith wasn't back on her feet quite yet, devoting an enormous amount of time to renovating her London penthouse, blogging, and gaining new Instagram followers who were eagerly following her pregnancy journey. Mary wasn't one of them, but good for Edith, she supposed.

"So... you want me living here with you, a year from now?" asked Tom, turning to face her. A small smile was on his lips already.

"Of course," replied Mary without hesitation. "You've been invaluable to me in all of this. We work well together, you're wonderful with George... and I like having you here," she concluded, figuring Tom wouldn't judge her too greatly for admitting that. He was, after all, her best friend. She hesitated before asking, "Do you want to stay here?"

"I do," he answered. He seemed to puzzle things over before finally admitting, "I like it here. I like living here..."

Mary smiled. "Well," she said, reaching for her mug of hot chocolate, the warmth against her fingertips a seeming reflection to warmth inside her, "that settles it, then. We'll be sitting here again together next Christmas." She wondered how different the world would be by then.

* * *

_December 31, 2014_

"She was beautiful."

Sarah was standing in front of a picture of Sybil, her hair in long, loose waves. She was in a blue and white floral dress, smile bright and eyes shining. It looked like it had been taken at some kind of gala, likely one of Mama's charity events.

"She was," agreed Mary, eyes flickering to Sarah. The woman had been sticking to her side the whole evening, coming to the unwelcome realization that Mary was the only person she knew at this party, aside from Tom.

"I can tell he misses her," continued Sarah, looking across the drawing room at Tom, who was talking with Edith. Her sister's hand was resting on her large stomach, looking happier than Mary had ever seen her. She couldn't help but wish Sybil was standing here next to her instead, where they could admire their sister and talk about how wonderful all this was. Matthew would be here too, talking with Papa...

But instead Mary was standing by Sarah and Papa was talking with Charles. What they were discussing, Mary had no clue, but they seemed to be getting along well enough.

Mary eyed the clock. It was almost eight— George and Sybbie would need to go to bed soon. "We all do," was all Mary could think to say before walking away from Sarah and towards Tom.

* * *

Dinner was a clusterfuck, to put it nicely. Mary wasn't sure how it began— She knew it had to do with Papa's dig about Michael Gregson, spoken as a way to cheer Edith up (or at least to validate how poorly she had been treated by him) but somehow Sarah had misinterpreted things and a fight had broken out.

"How can you be so small minded? This is the twenty first century!"

"Small minded?" sputtered Papa, taken aback.

"It isn't like how it used to be in the olden days," Sarah continued, oblivious to how uncomfortable everyone else was. "Just because you're the Earl of whatever doesn't mean—"

"I believe you're starting to veer off topic, dear," Granny interrupted, her tone saccharine but gaze withering.

Mary glanced over to Tom, who looked as if he were about to be sick. He was silent— unusual for him, especially when he had been the one to who used to start up these sorts of debates. She tried to meet his eye but he was only focused on the catastrophe unfolding before them.

Sarah ignored Granny before saying, "All I mean to say is that us mere mortals understand that people like you aren't perfect. Aren't you happy your daughter is having a baby?"

"Of course I am! I love all my children and my grandchildren!"

"I don't believe that's what Robert intended to insinuate," Isobel tried to tell Sarah, but she seemed to completely ignore her in favor of steamrolling ahead.

"Then why make a remark about the fact she's unmarried?" Sarah shot back. Poor Edith looked as if she were ready to crawl under the table... and Rose was likely being reminded of dinners with Susan and Shrimpie. Mary suspected she was now glad Jack had been busy tonight and spared from witnessing the row taking place before them. "I know you did the same thing with Sybil—"

"Sarah!" Tom exclaimed, the mere mention of her name enough to bring him out of his stunned stupor.

"How dare you?" Papa demanded, now truly angry. "You have no right to mention my daughter!" Much to Mary's horror, he was choking up. "You know nothing about her, or me, so do not think you have any say in what our relationship was like!"

The room had grown silent. Sarah was looking at Tom, more stunned by his exclamation than her father's. It stretched on until Papa rose to his feet, leaving the room, looking as if he were about to start crying. "I'd better go after him," Mama said, jumping to her feet and hurrying after Papa.

When the door closed, Mary turned to Sarah, fury boiling deep with in her. "Well? Are you happy now?" At that moment, she finally stop pretending to like this woman.

"Not really. I'm sorry for what he said to you, by the way," she said, having recovered and now glancing at Edith, who looked as shaken everyone else at the table was. She was the only one to pick up her utensils and start eating again. The rest of the table was silent... even Granny seemed rendered speechless, which was quite the feat.

"Sarah," Tom said, breaking the awkward pause, "You don't know the full story." He rose to his feet, placing the linen napkin on his half eaten plate of food. "Perhaps it's best we leave."

Sarah stopped eating, realizing now the sheer magnitude of her mistake. "Fine." She rose to her feet as well, taking Tom's hand. Mary's eyes fell to their interlinked fingers, wondering why Tom wasn't shaking her hand away.

It wasn't until they had left the room that Mary wiped her mouth, quickly said, "I'll be back in a moment," she said, addressing the rest, but mostly Charles, who was seated beside her. "I just realized I need to ask Tom something."

She found them at the front door, just as they were getting ready to leave. They were speaking lowly to one another, tugging on their coats. "Tom!" called out Mary, needing to capture his attention. He turned away from Sarah, meeting her gaze as she approached them. "I need to have a word with you." Though her words were cold and overly formal, she tried to convey the warmth she felt towards him through her eyes. None of this was his fault and she wanted him to realize that.

Tom nodded before rummaging through his pockets. "Sarah, can you wait in the car? I'll be out in a moment." He handed her the keys, not even sparing a glance backwards as she stalked to the door, her heels hitting the floor with purpose. It wasn't until the door shut that Tom said, "What's the matter?"

"Are you coming back tonight?"

Tom hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't think so. I've had an exciting enough evening already... and I don't know if Robert'll want me here."

"Of course he will!" Without thinking or even realizing she had done it, Mary reached for Tom's hand. "Tom, you're a part of this family. We all love you. He won't blame you for what Sarah said."

"Why wouldn't he?" asked Tom, voice hard but she could see the telltale signs— he was falling apart. His eyes voiced sadness he didn't speak of, his lips turned down, the slight tremor on _he_ that only someone well versed in Tom Branson's mannerisms and speaking patterns could detect. "I'm the one who brought her here. I'm the one who told her about him and Sybil and all the fighting—"

"Tom," Mary tried to cut him off.

"I feel like I don't belong here," he admitted, and Mary swore her heart stopped beating. "At Downton. I love all of you, but— I don't think this is where I'm supposed to be."

"What do you mean?" asked Mary. She thought about their conversation mere days ago, about how much they enjoyed living with one another.

"I mean that I've changed. That I have forgotten who I really am." There we're tears brimming in his eyes. "I wasn't— I mean, look at me! I'm dressed in a suit— I didn't even _own_ a suit before I met Sybil!" He gestured to himself. "And I come here all the time and eat dinner with your parents and—"

"Of course you've changed," said Mary. "I've changed. We all have. That's what happens when you grow up... and when you become a parent and when you lose someone important to you... It changes you." Her words were oddly emotional for her, yet miraculously there weren't tears in her eyes. "And considering I had to listen to you complaining about dressing in that suit all evening, I would say there's still plenty of the old Tom Branson in there. Even if there wasn't... there's nothing for you to be ashamed of."

"But I am," Tom whispered, and that's when he lost all control.

Mary only realized just how much _she_ had changed when she didn't even hesitate to hug him, pulling him even closer as he wept. A year ago, they had done the same thing, though she hadn't really known what to do then... Now it was instinctive, practically second nature. "It's alright, Tom," she murmured into his ear, unused to this but unwilling and almost unable to let him go. She rubbed his back. "It's alright." She didn't notice the vibrating of his phone in his pocket nor the sound of a door opening and then shutting. Mary simply held him until his eyes were dry.

"New Year's really isn't my holiday, is it?" asked Tom, obviously embarrassed but trying to make light of the situation.

"I think you should come back," said Mary, meeting his now red eyes. "Drop her off and then return here."

He shook his head. "I'm not much in the mood for socializing anymore, to be honest." He wiped at his face, even though most of the tears had fallen into her hair. "I think I'll just go home. I can pick you up in the morning."

Mary nodded. Charles would probably try to give her a ride back tomorrow, but Tom's car was the one with Sybbie and George's car seats. She was only glad they were already in bed up in the nursery. Had they been present at dinner, she was fairly confident the episode would have played a starring role in their therapy sessions once they were old enough. "Very well. I'll miss you, but I'll let it slide as long as you promise me one thing: don't spend this New Year's like you spent the last one."

Tom met her eyes. "I promise," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Mary gave him a smile, one that didn't make it to her eyes, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "See you tomorrow," she said quietly. "Happy New Year's."

"Happy New Year's." The irony of the statement wasn't lost on either of them as Tom turned away with a melancholy look and walked outside. Mary barely felt the cool air rush in, eyes locked where his retreating figure had been.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Charles asked, bringing her a new flute of champagne. 2015 was only a few minutes away. Mama and Papa had returned, looking somewhat sad but not letting the heaviness ruin their mood. Everyone was sad to learn Tom had gone back home but no one was more bereft than Mary, wishing he were here when she gave Charles the opportunities to socialize with her family instead of hanging by her side.

"I'm fine," she assured him, smiling as she accepted the drink. "Dinner was a bit of a dampener on my mood, that's all."

Charles nodded understandingly. "I suppose I understand now why you're always complaining about her."

Mary couldn't help but smirk at that. Poor Charles had listened to dozens of rants about Sarah— he had been excited to be invited to this get together, pleased at the possibility of seeing her in action. It was safe to say Sarah hadn't disappointed— in fact, she had exceeded Mary's expectations.

Papa began clinking his glass. "It's almost time, everybody!" He called out to the room.

Everyone present began chanting as the clock counted down the seconds... in those ten seconds, Mary relieved arguably one of the most challenging years of her life. She had lived one year without Matthew at her side, one year as a mother. She was somebody's girlfriend now... how strange it was, when this time last year she had been trying forget who she was and why it mattered.

As the clock struck twelve and 2015 began, Charles leaned in for a kiss. Mary's eyes closed instinctively and she leaned in. Even though she could not forget just who she was kissing, she could see a pair of blue eyes in her mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Seven**

_January 1, 2015_

"I feel like I was missing something," said Charles as he unbuttoned his shirt. Mary watched him from the bed languidly. "At dinner. During the fight," he clarified as if it wasn't obvious what he was referring to.

Mary bit back a sigh. "I don't think it's escaped you that Papa's a little old fashioned," she said, stretching out on the bed. Mama was the one in charge of arranging which rooms people were staying in, which was the only reason Charles was in here with her now. "And believe it or not, he's actually come a long way. But... well, before Sybil died, they fought almost constantly and about almost everything. He fought with Tom, too, but of course it would upset Sybil, and so she'd join in."

Charles frowned before joining her on the bed, kicking his trousers to the floor. "He didn't like Tom?"

Mary shook her head. "Not really. It took everyone some time to warm up to him... even me," she admitted, ashamed of her younger self. Once the engagement ring had been slipped onto Sybil's finger, she had decided to let bygones be bygones and accepted Tom would be a part of their family, but before then she had been firmly on Papa's side, uncertain he would actually be able provide her with any semblance of happiness.

Charles studied her. "Even after they were married?"

"Tom and Sybil never got married," she told him. "They were engaged but... well, she passed before they could get that far."

"Oh." Charles sat up. Mary gave him a curious look and he quickly said, "You always said he was your brother-in-law— I thought..."

"Sorry," said Mary, sitting up as well. "I forget what you know and what you don't know... I always feel like it's simpler, calling him my brother-in-law instead of explaining that he was _almost_ my brother-in-law."

Charles nodded. "Fair enough." He smiled. "But why— your father..."

Realizing she hadn't finished the story, she said, "After Sybil... well, after she... Mama blamed Papa. A doctor said something about stress and Mama essentially claimed Papa had been the one to kill her." Mary shook her head. "Papa had set her up with some sort of specialist who used to work for the royal family or something like that, too, which made it all the worse when the doctor ignored all the signs something was wrong. Mama eventually realized it wasn't his fault and that he was as sad as she was but I think he still blames himself, in a way. Or at least I think he wishes he wouldn't have argued with her so often."

He seemed pensive before laying back down. "I'm sorry," he said before leaning over and kissing her bare shoulder. Mary let her eyes close. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for your family... no wonder he was so upset."

"At least there's a silver lining to all this," said Mary inching closer to him. "I doubt Sarah will be over anymore and now you won't have to listen to me complaining about her."

Charles laughed before leaning over and kissing her again. When they parted, he said, "I love you." Before she could say anything else, he quickly said, "You don't have to say anything if you aren't ready. I just wanted you to know."

Mary merely smiled back, leaning in to kiss him again. She was pleased 2015 was already starting out on a high note.

* * *

"Are you sure?"

"You haven't any car seats," said Mary as gently as possible, holding George in her arms. He was already bundled up in his coat, and Sybbie was standing in front of them, kicking the gravel. Their breath was visible in the air as she leaned over, kissing him again. "Tom's on his way. I'll be fine."

Charles smiled. "I'll stay until I can make sure you've a ride home," he decided. "Just to put my mind at ease."

"How chivalrous," Mary teased, though truthfully she thought it was rather sweet.

Before he could make any more cheeky comments, Tom's car pulled up in front of the house. "I'll see you soon," Mary promised him, leaning in for one last kiss as Tom hopped out of the car.

"Love you," Charles said again, so casually that Mary could scarcely believe it. He exchanged hellos and goodbyes with Tom as he and Mary loaded their respective children into their car seats, waving goodbye as he walked to his own car.

—

_January 16, 2015_

"I cannot believe you actually invited her!" hissed Mary when Sarah entered the room, a large square package in her hands with white wrapping paper and a large pink bow. Tom was trailing behind her, bent down low enough to hold both George and Sybbie's hands, dressed in a grey tee shirt with some sort of logo emblazoned on it and a pair of dark jeans.

"What was I supposed to do?" asked Edith, sitting down in the arm chair. At this stage in pregnancy, Edith was enormous— something Mary might have delighted in if she didn't know the feeling all too well. "She's Tom's girlfriend! I didn't want to—" She stooped talking the moment she realized the couple was headed towards them.

"Hi, Edith! Where do you want our gift?" asked Sarah, smiling as she approached Edith. She didn't even glance at Mary— their brief interactions had become more antagonistic than before, all semblance of politeness out the window after New Year's Eve. Whenever she stopped by the house, Mary was content to pretend she didn't exist.

"Just over there on that table is alright," said Edith, smiling. They began chatting with one another, giving Mary the opportunity to turn to Tom.

"Deciding to raise Papa's blood pressure again, I see?" She knelt down, picking up George, pleased Tom had at least dressed him in the outfit she had picked out for him before running over to help Edith.

"I've never been to a baby shower before," insisted Tom, shrugging, "I don't know what I'm supposed to wear to one of these things."

Mary smiled, examining his casual attire with amusement, especially contrasted to every woman present, who was wearing a dress of some sort. "You could have asked me," she pointed out. "Or Sarah," she added, realizing that she was (regrettably) an option.

"I'll remember that for next time," said Tom, though Mary wondered how soon next time would be. She wasn't planning on having a baby any time soon... Maybe for Anna, but she was focused on work right now. The _Anna Bates Investigates_ series had really taken off.

Mary felt something tug at the bottom of her dress. "Where's Donk?" asked Sybbie.

"Donk went to the vet's with Isis," explained Mary... and thank God he was. She loathed to think of his reaction upon realizing Sarah had invaded their home once more. "They're going to see if she'll be having more puppies. He'll be back once the party starts."

Sybbie pouted, clearly upset she wouldn't be able to monopolize her grandfather's attention. Poor Sybbie would have a hard time adjusting once Baby Marigold or Baby Chelsea (Edith still hadn't made up her mind what to call her) was in the picture. "Why don't you go see Granny Violet?" asked Mary, looking over at her grandmother, who was seated on the couch next to Isobel. "You too, Georgie. You can go say hi to Nana."

At the mention of his grandmother, George loudly exclaimed, "Nana!" and began wriggling in Mary's arms. She tried not to laugh as he practically ran across the room, almost tripping over the rug, racing Sybbie.

"Isn't it strange?" Tom mused, watching them. "It feels like only yesterday they were tiny babies... now they can walk and talk."

"And then they'll be heading off to school," Mary said with a sigh, staring after them as well. George was climbing up the couch as Sybbie jumped up and down in front of Granny. "It goes by too fast."

Neither of them noticed the curious look Sarah was giving them.

* * *

_January 21, 2016_

"Need any help?"

Tom looked up from the cutting board, a mischievous look in his eye. "Shouldn't you be out there _fascinating_ your boyfriend?"

"You've been talking to Granny again," said Mary, rolling her eyes good naturedly, recalling her particular phrases. Tom merely grinned before returning to his task. "Seriously... is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why are you asking? You normally don't ask."

Mary blinked. He wasn't saying it an accusing manner, merely in a matter of fact way. "It's my date," she insisted. "I ought to do something."

"How about you sit down and enjoy it while I make dinner?"

Mary huffed. "It doesn't seem right... you doing all the work."

"If you went out to a restaurant, a chef would be doing all the work," pointed out Tom.

"But you aren't a chef. I know you and I want to help."

"And I know you, and I want to keep the house standing," quipped Tom, smirking before adding the vegetables to the pan.

Mary's cheeks burned. "How was I to know you aren't supposed to put silverware in the microwave?" She said, crossing her arms when Tom started laughing. "My parents only taught me which ones you are supposed to use for soup or for dessert, not which places you aren't supposed to put them!"

Tom let out another bark of laughter. "Well, for future reference, you aren't supposed to stick them into light sockets, either." Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you never figured out the microwave thing at uni."

Mary shrugged. She'd never run into problems at uni... well, almost none. In the kitchen, that is. She had plenty of problems elsewhere.

"Mary?" She turned around, spotting Charles in the doorway. "Sorry— but where's your bathroom?"

"It's just over here," said Mary, leaving the kitchen to push past him and direct him there.

* * *

_February 2, 2015_

_CHARLES: How are Edith and the baby?_

_MARY: Doing good! She still hadn't come up with what to call her yet— I think she'll be a Marigold, though._

_CHARLES: I'm glad to hear it! I still think she should be Chelsea._

_CHARLES: Isn't it a little weird that your sister's top two names are so similar to ours?_

_MARY: You've made that joke already._

_MARY: I'll just be happy once she makes up her mind_

_CHARLES: Did it take you a long time to figure out George's name?_

_MARY: Matthew and I had picked it out beforehand. We didn't even have any ideas for a girl's name except that we planned on the middle name being Isobel_

_CHARLES: It's too bad she had to do this all on her own. Her ex is a dick_

_MARY: He is but I'm proud of her. She's a lot stronger than anyone gives her credit_

"Do you want to hold her?" Edith asked.

Mary glanced up from her phone. Mama was holding the baby now, cooing at her granddaughter. "Sure," decided Mary, setting her phone down. She took her new niece into her arms, marveling at how small she was. There was already a reddish tint to her hair, like Edith's... "She's lovely," Mary told Edith honestly.

"Thanks," her sister said, looking visibly exhausted but pleased.

* * *

"Do you want more kids?"

Mary was startled by the question. She sat down her glass of wine. "What?"

Charles shrugged. "I suppose Edith's baby just got me thinking. About what it would be like."

"Don't you think it's a little too soon to be discussing that sort of thing?" asked Mary tightly, more than a little nervous. This wasn't supposed to be some big thing...

His smile faded. "You're probably right," Charles agreed, reaching for his glass and taking a sip.

Half an hour later, Mary stepping out of a cab in front of Aunt Rosamund's. She slipped up the stairs and into the "nursery", which was a spare bedroom with a twin bed and a crib.

When she entered the room, Mary felt like all the breath had left her lungs. Tom was sprawled out on the bed, fully dressed, Sybbie curled up at his side. They were both asleep. A picture book was lying on the floor next to him. George was in his crib, sleeping as well.

"Mama?" He mumbled when Mary reached in, brushing his blond hair aside.

"Go back to sleep, darling," whispered Mary, kissing her middle and index fingers before letting them sit on his cheek. George's eyes parted for a moment, revealing his brilliant blue irises, before closing again.

Mary turned around, still in awe of how precious the sight of Tom and Sybbie was. She took out her phone, taking a picture before sending it to his phone. The screen lit up next to Sybbie, where Mary noticed it wasn't plugged in to charge. Moving carefully so not to wake them, Mary plugged it in, next to still lit lamp, and left them alone.

* * *

_February 13, 2015_

"What?"

Mary couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe those words had left his mouth. She couldn't believe it was happening to her...

"I'm sorry," Charles said, looking down at the table. "But... I think it's for the best."

She felt like there was something stuck in her throat. "Why, particularly?"

Charles wore a strange look on his face. "Because... well, I'm more invested in us than you are."

"You know what you were getting into. You knew that I was still getting over my husband dying!" countered Mary. She was trying restrain her anger, but she felt powerless.

"I know," said Charles, sounding genuinely apologetic. "But... Well, I don't think I'm the man for you. Not in the long run. And if we wait much longer, I think I'll end up with a broken heart."

Mary didn't understand what he was saying... but she did realize she was being dumped. "Why here?" she asked, gesturing the lights hanging overtop their head. It was the same place they had made things official. "Why now?"

Charles winced. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I wasn't planning this. I just— I don't know. You can call it an epiphany, if you want."

Mary didn't want to call it anything... but she realized he was probably making the best decision for them both. The hurt she felt was more because of where they were and the fact he was the one ending things instead of her. The only person who had ever dumped her was Matthew... and he had redeemed himself in her good graces by getting back together with her. Somehow she doubted she would want to see Charles much after this evening.

"I just— I don't understand. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?" asked Mary.

Charles hesitated. He swirled his wine around in his glass. "You won't like the answer."

"I don't care if I like it or not. Tell me why."

He let out a deep sigh. "Mary... what is Tom to you?"

She was unprepared for that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... Who is he? To you? What role does he serve in your life?"

"You know that already. He's my best friend," said Mary instantly. "And he's my brother-in-law..." Her eyes narrowed. "You aren't seriously jealous of Tom, are you?"

"No," he answered, "no, I'm not. And don't worry— I'm not under some misguided impression something illicit has been going on... but I don't think you realize how close the two of you are. You're a huge part of one another's lives."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," replied Charles, honestly, even kindly, "but I think you need to examine your feelings for one another a little more closely."

Mary blinked. She couldn't believe what she was hearing... "This is ridiculous!" she sputtered, ready to storm out.

"Mary— Look, the fact is you are best friends. You live together. You are essentially raising children together... And you blew off a date with me to spend an evening home with him." Before Mary could remind him that it had been his birthday, Charles added, "When I went to your house for dinner, I felt like a third wheel on my own date!"

Third wheel? If he wanted to be a third wheel, he ought to sit down and enjoy a meal with Sarah where she would attempt to poison him.

"He has a girlfriend, in case you have forgotten!"

"How can I?" asked Charles, irritation seeping into his voice for the first time since this argument began. They were both oblivious to the nervous glances they were receiving from the other patrons. "You are constantly telling me about how much you hate the two of them together! It's one thing to dislike her, but it's almost an obsession, Mary!"

"The reason I don't like Sarah is because she is rude!" Mary insisted. "She's one of the most annoying people I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. I know Tom deserves better than that!"

Charles shook his head. "It's as if you can't even hear yourself." Mary scoffed. "This isn't all in my head, Mary. The two of you... the way you act around each other. I felt like you were a married couple and here I was, intruding into your blissful little lives."

"If you call losing the loves of our lives blissful, I suppose we are," said Mary sarcastically. Ordinarily, she knew speaking of Matthew in such bluntly honest terms was hardly appropriate conversation for a date, but this was hardly a date anymore, was it?

Charles, to his credit, didn't even flinch. He merely added, calmly, "And I saw you. At New Year's."

Mary frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you hugged him. I saw you."

It wasn't stated as an accusation but Mary interpreted it as one nevertheless. "There's nothing indecent about hugging someone!" insisted Mary, shocked he would insinuate such a thing.

"I agree. There isn't. But you don't show that sort of affection to just anyone, Mary." Charles was solemn now, almost reading off a list as he said, "I've never seen you hug anyone else. Ever. Not at the party, not when Edith had her baby... Maybe George and Sybil, but that's it. You're affectionate with me but only when no one else is around. And that's fine," he added, "that's who you are. But I don't think you have realized how you might actually feel yet."

"Charles, what you are saying is absolute lunacy!" insisted Mary. "He almost married my sister! There's never been anything between us, nor will there ever be!"

Charles met her eyes. "I wish I could believe that, Mary. You have no idea how much." He tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled it away. "I wanted to be with you. For a long time. For as long as you would have me... but..."

"Well, maybe you could have had it," Mary spat venomously, reaching for her bag, "if you stopped inventing romances between me and my brother-in-law." She jumped to her feet, storming out of the restaurant. _He_ could pay, she thought as she left the restaurant. She managed to snag a cab and directed it back to Aunt Rosamund's.

When she crashed onto her guest bed there, too exhausted to even cry. She couldn't believe it... her and Charles were over. Through. Done.

And she wasn't even sad. Not really. She had liked him... she had liked him a lot. Granted, she had never imagined any real sort of future with him, but she had never seen the end in her mind's eye.

As she deleted pictures from her phone and changed her relationship status on Facebook, a notification came through. It was from Tom...

_TOM: Just put George to bed. Asked him if he wanted to say anything to Mummy. He said "Say 'I love her'."_

Her heart melted.

_MARY: I love him, too. Please tell him that Mummy is looking forward to seeing him as soon as she is done in London._

As she waited for him to respond, she wondered if she should tell him... but that would only seem to reinforce what Charles was saying about them. How they were such large part of one another's lives...

So instead of responding to Tom's _How are things in London going? Say hi to Charles for me!,_ Mary responded to a number she hadn't contacted in a while. It took some scrolling, but she found it.

_MARY: Hey_

* * *

_February 14, 2015_

She couldn't believe she was doing this— She told Tom she was staying an extra night while she let Aunt Rosamund believe she was heading home.

Mary posed, examining herself in the mirror of her hotel room. Her new red dress was practically skin tight, her make up immaculately done. The dark circles under her eyes were concealed, which was a relief— even though he knew she had been up all night, considering he had been the one to keep her awake.

There was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" Mary called out, checking herself yet again before striding to the door.

Tony grinned when he looked at her. "God, you're gorgeous," he breathed, letting his eyes wander all over her.

Mary smiled, stepping back and inviting him in. "You don't look too bad yourself," she said, impressed at the effort he had put into his appearance. He hadn't been lying when he had said he would wait for her... and now he was jumping through hoops to prove his willingness. "So... what's the plan?"

"I thought I would take you to my favorite restaurant, where we would have a lovely dinner," Tony began, stepping closer towards her. Mary smiled. "Then I'd take you to the cinema to watch _Fifty Shades of Grey..._ maybe get some ideas for later..." he said, seductively as possible, "Then I'll bring you back here and then I wouldn't leave until the next morning."

"I like the sound of that." He leaned down and their lips met. Mary pulled him even closer to her. His hands fell on her waist, traveling lower and lower... "Are you sure we should even bother with the dinner and the movie?" She was mostly asking to skip out on the film— Matthew had bought the book at the height of its popularity, wondering what the hype was about, reading passages aloud to her in the most ridiculous voices possible to make her laugh... She had no idea how she would manage to sit in a darkened cinema, watching it with a straight face sitting next to Tony without thinking of him, especially when tonight was all about forgetting.

"I'm a gentleman," insisted Tony, leaning in for another kiss. He tasted of mint— he had clearly wanted to make a good impression. "I'll wine you and dine you before taking you to bed... but I suppose we don't need the movie."

* * *

Several hours later, Mary was in that same hotel room, crawling around on the floor, throwing on her clothes. Tony was asleep, completely oblivious.

To say that her evening had not been fantastic... was a little harsh. Dinner had been nice. The restaurant he had taken her to was sublime, the food prepared to perfection...

But the experience in this hotel room was completely underwhelming.

As Mary straightened the spaghetti straps on her dress, she realized how lucky she had been with Matthew. He had ruined her for all other men, she realized, a fact he was likely celebrating in Heaven or wherever he was in the universe. Tony had tried... which was all she could really say.

She wondered what the proper protocol was for these sorts of things. Was she supposed to write a note? She didn't even know where to find a pen...

Finally, Mary decided to text him.

_MARY: Sorry. I changed my mind._

Thinking it seemed to harsh, Mary cast a panicked look at his sleeping figure and added _:(_ to soften the blow.

God, what she been thinking? Her and Charles had only broken up last night and the very next night she was sleeping with another man? She hoped they never ran into either one another again, loathing to think of the impression she would leave on them...

Mary only realized her night would be a whole lot worse once she stepped into the hallway and spotted a camera crew and an all too familiar woman, who began slowing to a halt. "Cut the cameras."

* * *

Mary didn't catch up to Mabel until she ducked into the women's bathroom near the lobby of the hotel. To her credit, Mabel wasn't carrying on and making a fuss like Edith might've and when she emerged from the stall, though she was blotting her eyes with a piece of tissue paper.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, to be honest," said Mary without thinking. "I suppose I came to make sure you were alright."

"Well, I'm not. Are you happy?" demanded Mabel, slowly becoming more and more composed. Nevertheless, Mary was stunned. This wasn't the woman she had seen so often on television and in the tabloids...

"Not particularly."

"Why wouldn't you be? You finally have him now."

"I don't have anyone now. I was leaving for a reason," said Mary, letting her irritation seep through her voice. It occurred to her just then that Mabel was speaking to her with a strange familiarity, as if she knew just who Mary was.

"I was trying to surprise him. Did you know that?" Mary didn't possibly see how she could have known that, but let Mabel continue on, "I figured that since you were with Charles—" Mary flinched, just now remembering their connection, "—that I could win him back." She dabbed at her eyes. "How will Charles feel when he learns his girlfriend was coming out of another man's hotel room?"

"Considering we broke up last night, I hardly how it's any of his business what I do with my life," Mary replied cooly. She was many things but she wasn't a cheater, regardless of what some people would think. Mabel looked stunned, especially when Mary continued, "You can have Tony. I'm sure when he wakes up tomorrow in an empty bed, he'll have a far less favorable opinion of me."

Mabel furrowed her eyebrows, still somewhat weepy but regarding Mary with a curious look. When she said nothing, Mary decided to ask some questions of her own. "How did you know Tony was here, anyway?"

"A friend of mine works here. He saw him check in." Mabel turned to the mirrors, examining her appearance. "Obviously he didn't know you were here as well."

Mary blinked, uncertain of how to respond. "Well... I am sorry. Truly. I am." It seemed, at least to her, she had played a significant role in Mabel's heartbreak more than she should have. The first time was hardly her fault but the second time was all her doing. Maybe that was why, in a rare display of kindness, Mary asked, "Is there anything I can do to make this right?"

Mabel turned to her, looking surprised. She examined Mary carefully before asking, "Would you care to be on television?"

Her gut reaction said _No_ , but she had offered... "That depends... How am I to be portrayed?"

"It would hardly be in a flattering light," admitted Mabel, leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. "But we can always keep your identity anonymous... I can even blur out your face."

Mary nodded. "Very well." She suspected that a mysterious woman leaving Tony's hotel room would boost the ratings... and if the footage was already captured...

"And you could promise to stay away from Tony," added Mabel.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Mary replied. Not only did she have no desire to be with him but she suspected he wouldn't want to cross pathed with her again.

Mabel smiled with little enthusiasm. "Excellent."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Tom? It's me," said Mary, standing at the platform. This was the last train back— she was astonished they ran this late, but pleased she wouldn't have to spend another night in the city.

"Mary? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie, either. She wasn't in danger, which is what he was really asking. "I'm heading home now. I won't be home until about midnight. I'm sorry to ask this, but will you come pick me up?"

"Of course I will."

"You're a darling," she said with a relieved sigh. "I'll see you soon."

"See you."

* * *

_February 15, 2015_

"Where are the kids?" Mary asked, noticing the empty backseat.

"Sarah's with them at the house," responded Tom. Mary grimaced, glad Tom was focused on starting up the car instead of on her. "I couldn't think of who else to call this late."

"Sorry," apologized Mary, knowing none of this would have happened if it weren't for her. She should have just come home today... or tomorrow, she supposed, glancing at the clock. "That was nice of her," she managed begrudgingly.

"It was."

"She wasn't over already?" asked Mary, ignoring her own relief at the thought of Sarah staying the night... not only because her doing so would imply her and Tom really were serious, but also because the chances of Mary's bed being covered in broken glass significantly increased.

Tom shook his head. "We had dinner and watched a movie before she went home."

"That's cute," said Mary, thinking how her and Tom had done the same thing countless nights and that hardly constituted as a date... which made her think about Charles again.

As if he could read her mind, Tom asked, "Did you and Charles do anything nice? I noticed the new dress."

Mary flushed, feeling absolutely ridiculous. "Well... he took me to the restaurant where we had our first date..."

"How romantic."

"And then he dumped me."

Tom hit the brakes with more force than necessary. "Sorry," he muttered, more because of the driving before turning to her and saying, "I'm sorry, Mary."

"Don't be," she said. "I don't think we were well suited, not for the long run."

"Still... it must hurt."

"It did." Mary wasn't sure if she should mention exactly why Charles felt these steps were necessary. Should she burden him with that? Mary thought about it before figuring she might as well.

"Did he say why?" Tom asked, only reinforcing her question as to whether or not he could read her mind.

"He did, actually. But the reason he gave is an absolutely absurd one." She paused for affect, adjusting in her seat ever so slightly. "He says it's because of you."

"Me?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Did he think you and I were— that we're together or what?"

"No," Mary said, leaning back and crossing her legs, arms crossed over her chest. "From what I gathered, he seemed to think there was a secret, hidden passion that neither of us were acknowledging." She arched one eyebrow, turning to see his face.

Much to her relief, Tom laughed. "Where did he come up with that?"

"Because he saw me hug you once and he claims he felt like a third wheel when he came over that one time," said Mary, rolling her eyes, feeling much more at ease now.

Much to her dismay, Tom looked guilty. "I didn't want him to feel that way."

"It's not your fault he felt threatened," Mary stated resolutely. She wouldn't allow Tom to blame himself for Charles's petty jealousy.

"I know that... but maybe I overstepped—"

"You did no such thing." Her eyes flickered to the window, where they passed by darkened houses and lit street lamps. They were close to home now, passing the post office. "Please, Tom. I mean it."

He let out a heavy sigh. Mary thought this was the end of it before Tom said, "How could he think such a thing? Sybil—"

"I know." Mary didn't need him to say it. She glanced back over to him, resting her hand over the one he had placed on the center console. "You're my best friend." She hesitated. "I wonder if he would have said the same thing if you weren't a man. He probably wouldn't have."

"No— you're probably right." He pulled into the drive and Mary saw the living room lights were on. She ignored her irritation at the reminder Sarah was in her house.

Tom, ever the gentleman, carried her luggage into the house for her. "You're back," Sarah said, sounding relieved. She greeted them at the door, pulling Tom in for a kiss. Mary grimaced at the sight, pointedly looking away.

"Thank you for staying here," Tom said to her, still holding Mary's luggage. It was if she didn't even exist, intruding on their own little world. That thought reminded her of Charles once again and she balked. Without even waiting or saying a word, she slipped out of the kitchen. She could still hear their conversation as she climbed the steps, retreating to her empty bedroom.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Eight**

_February 28, 2015_

The microwave beeped loudly as the popcorn finished popping. Mary glanced up from her phone, deciding to wait a minute or two before dumping it into the bowl. There was no faint smell of burning, so it appeared for once she had been successful.

"You're quite the chef," Tom said a minute or so later when she joined him on the couch. "You'll be putting me out of a job."

Mary stifled a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll always need your help." She reached into the bowl, fingers brushing against Tom's as he did the same thing. Neither of them commented on it, Tom merely chuckling as Mary smiled.

"I never thought I'd hear you admit to that," Tom teased before eating his popcorn.

"Considering you've seen me at my absolute lowest, I don't think it even needs to be said," Mary retorted.

Tom smiled before asking, "So which movie are we going to be watching?"

"How does _Mean Girls_ sound?"

Tom shrugged. "I've never seen it. It's your pick anyway."

Mary's has dropped. "You haven't seen _Mean Girls_?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Mary didn't even react to his snark. She was well aware he had picked it up from her... in fact, she was rather proud. "Well, that settles it. We have to watch it now." She reached for the remote. "I must say, I am rather disappointed in Sybil for not showing you sooner."

"Did she like it, then?" Mary turned, curious to know why he was asking. "We didn't have much time for nights like this. She was always studying, I was always working..." He trailed off before shrugging. "We might watch some shows, but..."

Mary felt unspeakably sad. Hearing him talk about things made her all the more grateful for her times with Matthew, in spite of all the hurdles that life had thrown in their way. Tom and Sybil had planned on so many things...

"She loved this movie. Whenever one of us was sad, we'd watch this movie together," said Mary, enlightening him on a Crawley sister tradition. "I think the last time I watched it was after Edith's wedding. The three of us..." She trailed off, recalling how all three of them had huddled up in Edith's bedroom. Mary had taken off her ring before driving up to Downton, recalling the way she had lashed out at them both right after the horrible wedding that wasn't. Sybil couldn't hide her pregnancy, so Mary would hide her wedding ring.

They were only a couple minutes into the movie, her focus only interrupted by Tom's observations on American high schools when his phone rang. He glanced down, eyes widening before hastily saying, "I'd better take this. It's Sarah."

Mary paused the movie as Tom leapt to his feet. "Hello? Sarah?" A pause as he walked into the living room. Mary craned her head around. "I'm at home. With Mary." Another pause. "Because she's been sad lately. I thought I'd cheer her up. I thought I told—" He trailed off, almost as if he had been interrupted. "I'm so sorry. I forgot that was tonight. I wasn't thinking—"

Mary's eyes widened. It was probably in bad taste, but she began eating the popcorn with considerably more enthusiasm than before.

"Can we reschedule?" A beat. "I can't leave now, I promised Mary—" He was interrupted again, mouth hanging open for a moment before his jaw clenched. "She's my best friend. Of course she's important to me. We're important to one another."

Mary had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Oh, God... Was this because of her? All she could think about was her break up with Charles, the thing this evening was ironically supposed to be taking her mind off of. She stopped eating the popcorn, turning away.

"There's no need to say things like that." Tom's voice was now unexpectedly and uncharacteristically harsh. "I don't appreciate you talking about her like that. If that's how you feel, then I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Mary wasn't sure if Sarah had been given a chance to respond before Tom hung up, but he was rejoining her on the couch moments later. He seemed less upset than she might have expected, more tense than sad. After a minute or so of sitting there silently next to one another, Mary staring at him as he looked up at the television screen. "Aren't you going to start the movie back up?"

Mary hesitated before handing him the remote. "Perhaps you should be the one picking out what we should be watching," she said uncertainly. She had never been in this position...

Tom hit a button and the movie resumed. Cady Heron was eating lunch in the bathroom stall. Mary glanced at Tom, who was watching intently.

"It's alright to be sad," she told him shortly after the infamous _Jingle Bell Rock_ scene. He had said nothing since restarting the movie.

"I'm not. Maybe I should be, but..." He glanced over at Mary, trailing off before saying, "I liked her. I did. But I wonder if it might have been better if we had only been friends." He turned back to the screen. "I tried to move on too soon. I won't be making that mistake again anytime soon."

Mary understood perfectly.

"I never realized she was quoting this movie," said Tom a while later, obviously referring to Sybil. "I always thought she came up with this stuff on her own."

Mary smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but she wasn't quite that original." She reached into the bowl, only to find it empty.

* * *

_March 10, 2015_

Mary was shocked to be staring at James A. Kent's resignation, with a plan to leave in two week's time. "Did you know about this?" asked Mary, showing it to Thomas.

His mouth fell open before he nodded jerkily. "I knew he was thinking of going, yeah."

Mary examined his face any sign that he wasn't okay but Thomas was almost as good as she was at hiding his true feelings. "Well," she said with a sigh, turning back to her back, "I suppose we'll need a new tour guide."

Thomas said nothing, typing away at his desk. She glanced over at him, lips turned downward. Mary suddenly wondered if maybe she shouldn't have brought it up.

* * *

_May 8, 2015_

"I've been offered a job. In America."

Mary blinked. "What?"

"I've been asked to cover their upcoming presidential election," said Tom. "I'd start at the beginning of next year."

Mary stilled, wondering just what he was saying. "Are you thinking of accepting it?" Her voice was cold, colder than she intended it to, but she couldn't help it. She didn't like this— not at all.

Tom blinked now. "I am." He shifted in his chair, reaching for a second helping of green beans. Mary merely sat woodenly, watching him. "Does that surprise you?"

"It does, actually." She was angry now. "I thought you liked it here."

"I like it _here_ ," clarified Tom, nowhere near as flustered by all this as Mary was. He was speaking so plainly one would think he was talking about the weather or something equally prosaic instead uprooting his life to move to America. "But I don't belong at Downton. Going there for this job... maybe I'll find where I'm actually supposed to be."

Each word was like a dagger in her heart. She had no idea why those words hurt as fiercely as they did— maybe it was because her identity was wrapped up in Downton and a rejection of it was a rejection of her, or maybe it was the idea of this house being occupied by just her and George... "What about Sybbie?"

"They have daycares in America," said Tom, unbothered.

"But won't you be moving around constantly?" asked Mary, fairly certain that's how these worked. America was a large country— was Sybbie expected to be going along with him on the campaign trail?

"The place I'll mainly be in is Boston," explained Tom, "and I've a cousin there. Liam," he clarified, a name Mary vaguely recalled. "I won't have to leave the state often, but if I do, she can stay with him and his wife for a night or two. They have two daughters, so they know what they are doing."

Her eyes narrowed. "You've known about this for a while," she accused.

"About a week or so." Tom sat his fork down on the plate.

Mary figured it was more than that. He had done his research. He probably had already consulted with this cousin of his, figuring out logistics and whether or not they would be able to look after Sybbie.

She excused herself to bed early that night, feigning a headache. She wasn't sure why she bothered— Tom was able to see through it. He gave her a pitying looks as she walked up the stairs, one that Mary staunchly avoided.

When she reached her bedroom, her legs seemed to give out. Mary bit the inside of her lip as she leaned against the the door, wondering why this was bothering her so much, one leg folded underneath her.

She had no idea how much time had passed, only aware the sun was dimming and her bedroom was slowly being engulfed in darkness. Mary pulled herself to her feet, stripping away her clothes and changing into her pajamas before collapsing on her bed. Her phone was placed on the nightstand, where it charged.

More time elapsed. Just as sleep was about to claim her, there was a knock at her door. Mary's eyes flew open, already wide awake again. She breathed shallowly before there was second, hesitant knocking.

She should tell him to come in. She should open up the door. But Mary sat upright in her bed, waiting until he went away.

* * *

_May 9, 2015_

Neither of them said anything about it following morning. Mary pretended all was well, making herself smile when all she wanted to do was scowl and demand he remain here... but she knew that wasn't possible. If Tom wanted to advance his career, he had every right to do so— no matter how inconvenient it was to Mary.

So she ignored it. Mary chattered about some inane work gossip ("Thomas swears he doesn't like him but they've gone out to lunch three times already," she told him in reference to the new tour guide, Andy) until Tom, who was busy cleaning Sybbie's face of her breakfast asked, "Are you alright?" When she stared at him with a curious look, he clarified, "With the whole job thing?"

"Of course I am," she lied, now looking at George. She swore there was more food on his bib than there probably was in his stomach. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed upset last night."

"You took me by surprise. That's all." She turned to him again, masking her own disappointments, before saying, "I'm pleased for you. Really."

However convincing she may be to others, when Mary met Tom's eye, she knew at once that he had seen through her lie.

—

_May 25, 2015_

Mary was driving through the village when she spotted a blond man standing outside the new music studio, adjusting a foldable sign advertising openings for students. He glanced up, saw Mary, smiled and then waved. She responded back in kind, mystified, even after dropping George and Sybbie off to Mama.

"You never said Jimmy was still in the area," were her greeting words to Thomas when he arrived into the office, divesting himself of his jacket. Ever since Jimmy departure from their employment, Thomas hadn't said a word about him. Mary felt it was strange, considering Jimmy was easily his best friend.

Thomas shrugged. "Didn't think you'd care."

Mary rolled her eyes. Of course she cared... "What's he doing now?"

"Teaching music," answered Thomas. "It's what he went to school for, you know."

Mary was surprised. She had never thought of Jimmy as someone who wanted to teach— he was a part of a local band, she knew, but she'd never seen him as someone who would work with children. "How wonderful," said Mary, genuinely surprised. "Perhaps once George is old enough, maybe he can start taking lessons."

"What about Sybbie?" asked Thomas. "Or won't Branson let her?"

Mary hesitated. He hadn't told anyone else the news yet... she hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone else, not even Anna, who she usually confided everything in...

"I don't know yet, but I don't feel comfortable speaking for him," said Mary, as enthusiastically as she could muster. "We'll see."

* * *

_June 1, 2015_

Anna was the one who finally noticed something was wrong. She invited Mary over for a girl's night, John spending the evening up in his office. Anna poured Mary a glass of wine and they chatted with one another, Mary mostly about the children and Anna about her job and John's new garden.

"Will you tell me what's been bothering you now?" Anna finally asked after Mary told her about plans for Downton. Mary sat there, agape, as Anna smiled knowingly and said, "And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about."

Mary bit back a sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

"Probably not... but I know you and I know when something is bothering you." She reached over, filled Mary's half empty glass up again, and said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to... but you'll probably feel a lot better once you get it out."

Mary hesitated before glancing up Anna, one leg folded underneath her and eyes lacking any judgement.

She told her everything— about the job, about how awkward things suddenly were, how bereft she felt. "Have you told him that?" Anna asked, gaze not wavering from Mary even when the cat crawled onto her lap.

"No," Mary said, staring down at her knees. "I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?"

"Because it's his job... and it's a great opportunity. There's no reason for him to stay, apart from my selfishness."

Anna's gaze softened. "You aren't being selfish. You're just sad about a friend moving away. It's perfectly normal."

Was it? Mary wasn't sure. She had lost friends before— with a personality like hers, it was impossible not to bump shoulders every now and again. It didn't hurt like this— Tom leaving felt like a betrayal, like she was going to be alone all over again. It was the unfriendly reminder that people always left her... that's why she made a point of leaving them first.

"I don't want him to feel guilty," she said, not wanting to drag him down to her level.

"You wouldn't be," insisted Anna. "If anything, I think he would be more upset to know you've been suffering in silence all this time."

Mary wasn't sure.

* * *

_June 3, 2015_

Mary had been silently contemplating Anna's advice when mere days later, Tom announced, shortly after arriving home, "I accepted the job."

She froze. Then she plastered a smile on her face. "Have you? That's wonderful. Congratulations." She bustled past him to grab her phone, which was sitting on the counter.

"Thanks," Tom said, though he didn't sound enthused... "I'm looking forward to it." Based on his tone of voice, one might have thought he was talking about a colonoscopy instead of an amazing job opportunity. She knew why when he let out a sigh and said, "Mary, are you sure—"

Mary cut him off by raising a finger and lifting her phone to her ear. When someone on the other end announced she was calling _Fabiano's,_ Mary quickly placed an order for a pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms before hanging up— Tom's favorite... well, almost his favorite. She refused to add the olives to it. After she hung up, she met his eye and said, "It's a celebration... and you shouldn't have to cook for yourself when we're celebrating your accomplishments."

Tom smiled, looking genuinely pleased. Mary definitely couldn't bear to tell him now what she had been planning on saying... so she doubted it would ever come up. She had squandered her chance; now all she could do was be happy for him.

* * *

_July 15, 2015_

Mary couldn't believe she had been so careless— but then again, it was hardly like her to pay attention to things like birthdays... especially Edith's, which was in a mere two days. Mama and Papa were holding some sort of party tomorrow for her at the house and Mary had yet to buy a gift.

"What did you buy her?" Mary asked as she reached for her purse and sunglasses as Tom sat by, amused.

"I bought her a new journal. She's almost filled hers up," Tom told her. How he knew that was beyond Mary— she didn't even realize Edith kept a journal. Then again, Tom and Edith also genuinely liked one another. They truly did view one another as a brother and sister. "What are you thinking of getting her?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know. Gift cards or something."

"For where?"

"I'll decide once I get to the store," answered Mary, somewhat irritated.

"Store?" Sybbie seemed to appear out of nowhere as Mary began slipping on her shoes. "Can I go?"

Mary glanced over at Tom who nodded ever so slightly. She hesitated, looking at her niece before saying, "I suppose so." Sybbie practically cheered. "You don't mind keeping George, do you?"

"Of course not," answered Tom as Sybbie raced over to the door, putting her shoes on the wrong feet until Mary knelt down time help her. "I was planning on watching them together, anyway."

Mary smiled, glancing down at Sybbie, who had now scrambled to her feet. "Very well," she told him, reaching for her niece's hand. "We'll be back shortly."

As Mary buckled Sybbie into the car seat, she listened to her babble about her Isis's new litter. "Can we get one, Mary?" She pleaded, giving Mary her best puppy dog eyes.

Mary hated saying no but knew she must. There was no way she could deal with a puppy and two toddlers... especially when Tom would be leaving with Sybbie... but Sybbie didn't know quite yet. There was still some time and Tom wouldn't be leaving until early January. "Taking care of a pet is a lot of responsibility, darling," said Mary, eyes flickering to the mirror to make eye contact with her. "Maybe when you and George are older, we can talk about it some more." She didn't even dwell on the possibility that Sybbie wouldn't return.

"But they're so cute!" insisted Sybbie, jaw hurting out. She looked and sounded so much like Sybil, speaking with the same sort of conviction. Mary briefly forgot where she was. "And then if we have one, it won't have to leave Isis forever!"

Mary nearly stopped breathing. Unknowingly, Sybbie's words were tugging at her heartstrings. "All puppies have to leave their mothers someday, darling," said Mary, though she didn't sound terribly convincing.

She didn't like the comparisons her mind was making, equating herself with Papa's dog. She wasn't Sybbie's mother, she was her aunt... but she could willingly acknowledge she was more involved in her niece's life than many aunts. Sharing a home, watching her grow every single day... it was no wonder Mary had developed a somewhat maternal bond with Sybbie.

 _She's Sybil's daughter,_ she reminded herself, staring ahead.

"But they'll be so sad!" Sybbie stuck out her bottom lip.

Mary blinked behind her sunglasses. "They will at first... but it will stop hurting after a while." She wondered who she was trying convince— herself or Sybbie.

When they reached the store, Sybbie had changed topics, talking about a game her and George had invented similar to tag. "What are we buying?" she asked, following Mary down an aisle.

"A present for Auntie Edith's birthday."

Sybbie lit up immediately. "Can _I_ pick?" She asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

Mary paused. She had only planned on grabbing a cheap card and a Starbucks gift card... but if Sybbie was offering... "Certainly," she replied, grinning down at Sybbie.

When they went to pay, a pair of hot pink slippers, a water bottle, and a pack of gum sat on the conveyor belt. Mary had a hard time not laughing at each selection Sybbie made, excited for Edith's reaction... especially since she wouldn't be able say if she hated it once she learned Sybbie was responsible for everything. The cashier scanned each item, peering through her thick rimmed glasses to remark, "You and your daughter look so much alike."

Mary felt as if she were being stabbed in the heart. Sybbie paid no attention, focus diverted to the floor as she swung her arms around. "She's my niece, actually," she corrected the woman, heart full of love for the little girl. "But everyone's always said my sister and I look alike."

The cashier smiled before telling Mary the total.

* * *

_September 8, 2015_

She was uncertain how it had come out, but it had. Mary was now staring at her lap, picking at her nails and staunchly avoiding Tom's gaze.

"It's not because of you," Tom said unnecessarily. It didn't make Mary feel any better. She felt like shit— how hard was it just to keep her mouth shut and be happy for him? Now he would be feeling bad and guilty and every other negative feeling he shouldn't be feeling all because she just had blurt out, _I don't want you to go to America._ "In fact, I think you're the biggest reason I've stayed here, to be quite honest."

She wasn't certain if it was meant to make her feel better or not. "I know it isn't." She swallowed. "I just— I don't understand what's changed."

"I have." She glanced up now, finding Tom's gaze fixed straight ahead at the brick fireplace. "And... there's so many reminders here. Of Sybil," he clarified, almost unnecessarily. "And... and of Matthew." That caused her head to jerk up and for him to meet her eyes. "I know that we... he was your husband... but he was my friend."

Mary swallowed, thinking of the bond Matthew and Tom had shared. Sometimes she forgot that before they had become best friends that it had been him and Matthew. When she was in the depths of her grief, she hadn't really thought of what Tom was going through. It was that fact that made her feel ashamed. Losing a fiancée and then his best friend, all while taking care of two babies and a depressed woman... How had he done it?

"I just— I need to go somewhere else. To carve out my own life. To stop living in shadows." His words were almost poetic. "Does that make any sense?"

It didn't. Not to her, at least. She had never been stuck in the shadow of anyone else, not really. Her parents had expectations for her, of course, but if any of them had been fulfilled, it was solely to please herself. A large part of Mary identity was caught up in maintaining the legacy of the Crawley family and their ancestral home. Downton was a part of who she was.

But Tom wasn't like her. And for him, she supposed moving away from it all was the only way he felt he could move forward. The only ties that bound him were the emotional ones to her and the rest of their family. "It does," she acquiesced.

"We can still talk," he reassured her. "And maybe we'll come back for holidays and whatnot... it isn't like we won't still be close."

Mary wished she could be sure of that. There was no guarantee they wouldn't drift apart. In her experience, when people left, they did so for a very long time. The one exception in her life had been Matthew, who had seemed bound to her as if there was an invisible thread linking them together. No matter how hard they had tried to distance themselves following their break up, Matthew had nevertheless reappeared in her life.

It was then that it really hit Mary of just how afraid she was at being left behind. Tom would go far away and forget all about her, meeting new people. She would be a mere footnote in his life, someone he would think fondly on, but one day she would just be Mary, Sybil's sister and Sybbie's aunt, the person who had once been his best friend.

What did they really have in common, anyway, apart from losing their loved ones? Hardly anything. Tom's upbringing was virtually unrecognizable from Mary's and they had drastically different interests. For God's sake, one of Tom's favorite things was cars, the very thing that had killed Matthew!

"It won't be the same," was all she said.

"No," agreed Tom. "It won't be." There was a sad look in his eyes. "But no matter where I go, you'll always be my best friend."

She wished she could be certain of that and not account it to sentimentality on Tom's part. She knew she was being truthful when she replied, "And you mine."

* * *

_September 21, 2015_

Mary found Papa standing in the driveway, hands in his pocket and staring off into the distance. The sky was dark, the only lights coming from the house. Even the moon was hidden behind dark clouds, the stars obscured from view.

Upon hearing the gravel crunch beneath her feet, Papa turned around. He offered her a smile, one that didn't meet his eyes.

"How long have you known about it?"

"Since June."

Papa said nothing. He gazed out at the wooded area. Then, "Do Sybbie and George know?"

"Not yet."

The wind came out of the north, chilly and blowing Mary's hair, tickling her face and succeeding messing itself up.

"You... You don't think he would consider leaving Sybbie here, do you?" Papa sounded almost hopeful. "Just for a while, while he settles things?"

Mary shook her head. "You know she would be devastated to be away from him for too long, Papa." She tried to remain strong, to will her voice to not shake.

Papa nodded. "I'll miss him. I never thought I would but... I will." He swallowed, now turning back to her. "When Sybil brought him home that first time, I thought she must be mad... or just doing it to spite us and rebel. But now... Well, I know she couldn't possibly have picked another man."

Mary didn't look at him, tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffled ever so slightly, blinking.

"I wish I could have known back then," he continued, lost in his own thoughts now. "Then maybe I wouldn't have been so harsh."

"You should be having this conversation with Tom."

Papa nodded again. "You're right. I should." He turned back. "But I think I'll stay out here a while longer. I'm alright... but let your mother know. She worries about me."

Mary nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and began walking back into the house, using the cool air and short walk to compose herself before returning to her family.

* * *

_November 12, 2015_

The first sound Mary heard was that of a crying child. The next was the door closing. She looked up, diverting her attention away from George to see Tom and Sybbie reentering the house from their walk, Sybbie wailing loudly. Tom looked as though he had been through a war, evidently distressed.

"What's the matter?" Mary asked, rising to her feet immediately. She all but rushed to Sybbie's side, kneeling down inspect her for any scrapes or bruises. "Did she hurt herself?"

"I don't want to go!" Sybbie sobbed, running up to Mary, hugging her around the neck.

Instantly Mary understood what had happened. She met Tom's eyes, a little disappointed he hadn't forewarned her he was doing this... especially since she had been thinking it might have been best to rip off the bandage at once and tell both children at the same time. Still, there was no way to alter the past... and Tom looked so helpless and miserable at present that there was no possible way she could be genuinely angry with him over this.

"It's alright, darling," said Mary, uncertain of how the best way to comfort a child who had come to the unwelcome realization that she would be moving to another continent entirely. Truthfully, she didn't feel alright about any of this, either, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Sybbie continued to cry, repeatedly asking Mary to let her stay and for Mary and George (and Donk and Grandmama and Marigold and Rose and Granny Violet, etcetera) to move with them to America. Nothing either Mary or Tom said seemed to say seemed to help, nor did George's constant inquiries of " _Why is Sybbie crying?_ " or asking his cousin to repeat what she said because, " _I can't understand you!_ " When she fell asleep on Mary's lap, it was almost a relief.

However, George kept pestering. "Why aren't you telling me, Mummy?" He crawled upon the couch next to Mary, poking her arm as she tried passing Sybbie over to Tom gently. "Is it a secret?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," whispered Mary, cringing at the shrillness of his voice, especially when Sybbie stirred in Tom's arms. Tom gave her a worried glance, which Mary had no response to. Did he expect her to keep it from him now, after Sybbie just had a meltdown? It was best if he heard it from her instead of from Sybbie, who would undoubtedly tell him about it when she woke up.

Thankfully, George didn't respond the same way Sybbie had. "But why?"

"Because Tom has a new job," explained Mary, though truthfully she too didn't understand.

"But why can't he do his job here?"

"Because it's in America, which is very far away."

"Can I go, too?"

Mary shook her head. "Downton is our home, darling. Besides— wouldn't you miss Grandmama and Donk?"

"They can come, too!" insisted George.

"I wish things were that simple." She lifted her son up onto her lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His hair still smelled of Sybbie's strawberry shampoo, which had insisted he wanted during his bath last night. "But I'm afraid it isn't possible."

"Yes, it is! We can all move!"

Theoretically, they could. Mary was well aware her family was well enough off they could afford to sell everything and move to America tomorrow if they so desired... But it would never happen. Papa loved Downton as if it were a member of their family, and Mary felt much the same. "We can't," she told him, feeling somewhat sad. "This is our home, Georgie. We can't leave it."

He didn't understand... and in a lot of ways, Mary didn't, either.

* * *

_December 24, 2015_

Tom was hanging Sybbie's stocking over the fireplace when Mary came down the stairs, now dressed in her pajamas. George's was in her own hand, having been hidden in her bedroom for weeks.

"Great minds think alike," she said, drawing his attention. He turned around with a grin, taking a step back as she hung George's alongside Sybbie's.

"I still have the other gifts in my room," he said softly, seeming soak in the dimly lit room. His eyes seemed to trace over the bulbs on the Christmas tree, the photographs hanging on the wall...

It was hard to believe that in mere weeks he would no longer be here. Mary willed herself not to think about it— if she did, she feared she would burst into tears, which was not only undignified but a horrible way to spend their last Christmas Eve together. So she put on a brace face to say, "Me too. But we can wait a while longer, can't we?"

"I suppose so... at least long enough for a mug of cocoa. Want one?"

"Certainly," said Mary, going to sit on the couch as Tom went to the kitchen.

"It's out of a packet," Tom explained when he arrived a minute or so later, two mugs in his hand. "It's not good as the homemade—"

"It's fine," Mary cut him off, taking a sip to prove her point. The liquid was hot, practically scalding her lips and the tip of her tongue, but she hardly noticed. Nevertheless, she sat it down. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said as he joined her.

They sat in comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Mary couldn't stop thinking this was the last Christmas they would spend with one another... would they still be as close when he moved to America? Technology had made enough advancements so they could stay in touch, but there was also the complexities that came with different time zones and balancing work that she wasn't completely confident.

"What do you think it would be like?" asked Tom quietly, staring at the fire. "If they were here?"

He didn't need to clarify who he was speaking about. Mary knew implicitly. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I don't know if you would be here right now, to be honest. Wouldn't you be in Ireland, like you planned?"

Tom shook his head. "I think we'd be here," he insisted. "Sybil'd want to spend Christmas with all of you... and you'd invite us, wouldn't you?"

It seemed like they were children, playing pretend, but Mary allowed herself to go along with it. She could envision Matthew in the arm chair, a mug of cocoa in his hand. Sybil would probably be on the couch with Tom and Mary... She was willing to admit the mood wouldn't be so somber if they were present in flesh and blood. There would be laughter filling the room, shushing one another to remind them they couldn't wake the children.

"We would," said Mary, answering for herself and Matthew.

It was hard to believe that this time next year, Mary would be here all alone. She glanced over to Tom, who was staring at the fireplace.

"I want to thank you," he began gently, "for everything."

Mary shook her head. "It's me who should be thanking you."

"No, really, Mary. I mean it. If it wasn't for you and Matthew... Well, I don't know where I'd be."

Mary didn't know where she would be without him. Perhaps Tom might've gone to stay with his brother and Mary would be at Downton. There was no way they would have ever become as close.

"Do you think that you'll ever come back?" Mary found herself asking. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him.

"I'm sure we will."

"How soon?"

"I don't know yet." He sounded apologetic. "But it won't be forever. And who knows? Maybe you could come stay with us sometime."

Mary tried to picture the whole family being crammed into Tom's new three bedroom flat. He had shown her pictures of the place and while it was in good condition, it was also very cramped. "I don't know if we would all fit," said Mary, unable to stop grinning. "That is unless you want Edith and I sharing an air mattress in your living room."

"I was talking about you and George," Tom said hastily. His cheeks were pink when Mary finally glanced up. "I mean... I'd love to see everyone else at some point... but there'd be more than enough room for you two."

Mary couldn't stop herself from smiling, touched. She really would miss him.

* * *

_January 12, 2016_

The airport was packed full of people for such an early time in the morning. Tom sipped his coffee, balancing a sleepy Sybbie on his lap. George, on the other hand, acted as if he had been the one to order the coffee, jumping about the café and giggling, even as Mary tried to get him to calm down.

It was only the four of them at the airport. There had been a huge farewell dinner at the Abbey several nights ago, and Aunt Rosamund had graciously allowed them to stay at her place so they wouldn't have to rise so early in the morning. Edith and Marigold had swung by last night, giving the Crawley cousins one last chance to say goodbye.

In spite of the fact it was a weekday, Mary had to be there. She needed to be there until the very end, his last memory of this chapter of his life...

A woman's voice started on the intercom, breaking the silence between them. "I'd better start heading that way," said Tom, draining the disposable cup before rising to his feet. Sybbie, who was still sluggish, staggered alongside him, holding his hand.

"Yes," said Mary, gathering up her purse and her hyperactive son as Tom threw away his wrappers and cup, "Of course."

When Tom reached the proper gate, he turned to Mary, smiling widely. "Well... this is it, then." Much to her horror, he looked as if he were trying not to cry.

Mary wrapped him into a fierce hug, an unusually affectionate gesture from her, but she couldn't bear to see him looking so sad. It would only make her question if he was really going to be happy so far away. Mary closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you." Oh God... he was choked up. It wasn't doing anything for Mary's resolve to not burst into tears in public.

"Please let me know when you've landed... or else I'll worry."

"I promise." They parted, looking at one another tearfully.

They exchanged goodbyes with their niece and nephew respectively, kissing their cheeks and promising they wouldn't be gone forever. George and Sybbie hugged one another one last time as Mary pressed a kiss to Tom's cheek when she embraced him again. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

After Sybbie and Tom has disappeared through the terminal, Mary took George's hand and lead him through the airport. "Why are you crying, Mummy?"

"I'm not crying," lied Mary, staring straight ahead as she sniffled. "Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! This update is coming early, but I’ll be busy most of tomorrow so I thought I’d update tonight instead. 
> 
> Sorry the last chapter was so sad— hopefully this one will cheer you up!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Nine**

_January 12, 2016_

_TOM: We've landed safely in Boston_

_MARY: Thank God for that! What did Sybbie think of the plane?_

_TOM: She liked it until we hit some turbulence. Poor thing was terrified._

_MARY: Oh no! Hopefully she isn't traumatized forever— I already miss her terribly!_

_TOM: She misses you and George too_

_TOM: And so do I_

* * *

_January 2016_

Mary doubted Crawley House had ever been so quiet. George had his rambunctious moments but for the most part was a reserved child. He didn't have to compete with anyone else to gain her attention now, simply crawling into the couch and tugging at her sleeve to say, "Mummy, look!" and present her with a drawing.

It wasn't all bad. Whenever George went on outings with Isobel to the zoo or spent a day with his beloved Donk and Grandmama, Mary was granted time alone to herself. It was nice to be able to walk around the house in only a baggy tee shirt and sing at the top of her lungs without worrying about disturbing another person. Mary indulged herself by taking leisurely bubble baths and watched movies that made her cry (which, not so coincidentally, happened to be movies that she disliked watching with others).

With so much space to herself, she had started inviting Thomas over after work for a couple glasses of wine. Normally, she might have extended the invitation to Anna, but she was busy furiously writing the third installment to her popular book series. She enjoyed his company and was somewhat surprised to learn just how good Thomas was with children. She only hoped that he would finally get over Jimmy soon so he could find himself a nice man.

As pleasant as her newfound freedom was, it didn't mean it was worth losing Tom and Sybbie. She would be at the grocery store (a task she had started doing with more regularity; Tom knew she hated it and tried to it as often as he could) and spot Sybbie's favorite snack on sale, only place it in the trolley before remembering she wouldn't be there. At the end of a long day, she would come home, wishing Tom was there for her to talk to.

They still spoke; they texted one another once a day, even if it was only silly stuff about an amusing stranger Tom saw in line at McDonald's or a meme Mary found that he might appreciate. Thanks to the time difference and their demanding work schedules, weekends were the only times they could really call long enough to hear one another's voices but weekends were also busy spent with the children... and it wasn't the same as sitting down with one's best friend.

_He'll only be gone for a while,_ she told herself, but grew increasingly worried she was deluding herself. Tom was acclimating nicely to Boston; he had befriended some coworkers already and spent plenty of time with his cousin and his family. Sybbie was enjoying it as well; she liked going to daycare and playing with her cousins. It made her wonder if maybe Boston would be permanent.

* * *

_February 19, 2016_

Mary smiled, scrolling up and reading the article again. She had always tried to be attentive to Tom's work, being as supportive as possible, but she was genuinely in awe as she read Tom's article.

_MARY: Very well done! I'm so proud of you!_

_TOM: Thanks! I spent a lot of time on this one._

_MARY: I can tell. Truly, you've done an excellent job._

* * *

_March 21, 2016_

Mary woke up on her thirtieth birthday alone in her bedroom. She stared to the empty space beside her, feeling more lonely than ever. She had never expected to celebrate it without Matthew by her side, but it was a harsh reality she had come to face... though since his passing, she had thought at least Tom would be there. She rubbed her eyes, sitting upright in her bed to check her phone.

_TOM: Happy 30th birthday! I am sorry I can't be there for it, but I hope it's a good one. If you call me around eleven, maybe we can FaceTime one another? If not, it's fine!_

Mary smiled down at her phone before typing her reply.

Around eleven o'clock, Mary was curled under the covers in bed, the same place she had been only sixteen hours prior, only this time George was beside her, excited to be allowed to stay up so late.

When Tom's face appeared on the screen, Mary beamed. "Happy birthday!"

"Look at you!" exclaimed Mary, eyes wide. "Is that a beard?" Perhaps that was a generous way of putting it— it was little more than a mere scruff, but certainly more facial hair than he had sported in the past.

"Yeah," Tom admitted. "D'you think it suits me?"

"I don't know what to think," admitted Mary, finding the image disconcerting. He was sitting on a slate colored sofa, the wall behind him white. When she noticed the discourages look on his face, she quickly amended, "It's not bad, though."

He chuckled. "I'll take that."

It was then that George butted into the frame. "What happened to your face?" He yelped, causing both Mary and Tom to bust up laughing.

"What happened to your face?" countered Tom teasingly. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be up?"

"I thought he might want to say hello to you... and to Sybbie, too."

"Of course— Sybbie!" He called out.

Even though she was sure it wasn't what Tom had anticipated on, Mary was pleased to say hello to her niece, who already seemed to have grown since leaving them, adorable and sweet as ever. George was excitedly telling her everything at Downton and about Marigold's birthday party and visiting Mrs. Patmore in the kitchens. They talked for quite awhile until Mary realized it was almost 11:30, telling them it was time for George to go to bed. He put up a fuss, of course, but Tom helped coax him into handing Mary's phone back to her. "I'll talk to you later," she told Tom, exchanging goodbyes until she hung up. She sent him a quick text promising to call back once George was in bed.

"Why can't Sybbie live with us anymore?" George pouted when Mary tucked him into bed.

"Because Uncle Tom moved across the ocean." It always sounded poetic, when she said that, but Mary rather liked it. It sounded like something from a fairytale instead of the harsh reality of having her best friend living in a new country.

"But why couldn't he leave her with us?"

"Because he's her father... and they must stick together, just like you and I will always stick together."

"You won't ever leave me?"

Mary froze, glancing at her son. Poor George... he was struck by that same fear of hers: being left behind. Was it any wonder, when Matthew had left them so soon? "Never," she promised, leaning down to brush a kiss to his forehead. "I'll always be here for you, darling." Maybe it was dangerous to make such promises, when life was so fleeting and could be easily snatched away, but Mary vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to always be there for him.

He drifted to sleep shortly after that, absolutely exhausted. Mary called Tom back, who was now in front of a sunlit window. She could see another apartment complex located just behind him.

"Aren't you tired?" Tom asked when Mary laid down on her side, strategically maneuvering Matthew's pillows so that she could lean her phone against it instead of holding it upright.

"Not too tired to talk to you," she countered. "Why don't you give me a house tour?"

Tom obliged, showing her every room in his flat, laughing when Mary critiqued some of his design choices.

"Why would you hang that up?" She said between peals of laughter. He had just shown her a picture he had framed in the hallway of dogs playing poker. It was utterly ridiculous, in Mary's opinion,

"I don't know what's so objectionable about it," Tom said, huffing, though she could tell it was an act. He was smiling.

"You don't?" Mary arched her eyebrow.

"I thought it was nice," Tom said, a little embarrassed but laughing regardless. "I suppose I'll have to cancel the shipment of your gift now..."

"You didn't!"

"No, I didn't!" Tom grinned cheekily as Mary let out a relieve sigh, still laughing. "Do you want it to be a surprise or not?"

"You know I hate surprises."

"You're getting a card from Sybbie and a book from me," said Tom.

"A book? What sort of a book?"

"It's a novel. One I thought you'd like."

"I just told you I hate surprises," Mary said good naturedly. "You might as well tell me what it is."

"Trust me. I think you'll like it." He was smiling from ear to ear.

Considering how well he knew her, Mary figured he would probably be right. "Very well," she said with a sigh. "It had better be good," she warned him, without any real malice, fairly certain it would be.

It was almost one in the morning before they finally said goodnight to one another, Mary's eyes tired and her phone almost dead. "We should do this more often," said Tom, leaning back in his chair. "I miss talking with you."

"Me too," she said sleepily, eyes almost falling shut. "The house feels empty without you." She paused. "You know that there's always a place for you here if you want it, don't you?"

"I do. And thank you."

"Are you happy there?" Mary wasn't sure if she wanted him to say _yes_ or _no_. Selfishly, she wanted him to be longing for Downton, miserable in his flat and wishing he was with them, which would of course prompt him to change his mind about leaving them. But as someone who loved Tom and wanted him to be happy, that was also the last thing she wanted for him. He had carved out a new life for himself, just as he had wanted... it was only a question of whether or not this is what he needed, what he was truly looking for.

"Yeah. I am."

Mary smiled back, pleased at her almost palpable relief. So she wasn't a completely horrible person after all... "I'm glad."

* * *

_May 9, 2016_

Mama and Papa had gone up to London to visit Aunt Rosamund for a day or two, so George was staying with Isobel for the day. It was a break from routine, but something that had occasionally come up over the years. Isobel, while retired, still remained active in the community, but always looked forward for a chance to spend time with her grandson and even Sybbie. Mary supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when, upon reaching Isobel's, she asked, "Do you think Tom would mind if I sent little Sybil a birthday gift?"

Mary started at the question. "Of course not! In fact, I'm sure they would both be quite happy."

Isobel smiled at Mary. "I'm sorry he's gone," she said, but with a strangely optimistic tone in her voice. "I always liked Tom. It was nice to have a member of the family who wasn't afraid to speak their mind... and of course little Sybil was such a dear thing." Mary felt a lump forming in her throat as Isobel asked, "Do you hear from him often?"

"I do. It's a little hard, with the difference in time zones, but we manage to stay in touch."

"And how is he liking it?"

"I think he's enjoying himself there." As loath as she was to admit it, Boston wasn't looking so temporary. Mary hated dwelling on it but tried to make herself feel better by reminding herself that he was happy.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that!" said Isobel, beaming. "It must be rather exciting— I've always wanted to go to America."

"Don't catch Granny heading you say that," Mary said with a smile. Isobel and Granny has a strange bond; there were times it seemed almost antagonistic, but they also genuinely seemed to appreciate one another's company.

Isobel let out a chuckle but said, "I'll have to remember to bring it up when she comes over for tea this afternoon."

Mary bit back a laugh, realizing full well where Matthew had inherited his argumentative streak. It was almost surprising that Isobel had pursued nursing when she easily could have made a good lawyer. "I have to dash, but it was lovely talking to you," said Mary, smiling at her mother-in-law and saying her farewells.

It wasn't until she had passed the music studio where Jimmy worked that Mary let herself think about how Sybbie's fourth birthday was mere days away. It would be strange... and much too quiet.

* * *

_June 2, 2016_

_TOM: How was your date with Jason?_

_MARY: His name was Justin. And it was horrible._

_TOM: I'm sorry :( Do you want to talk about it?_

_MARY: Not really. He was ok but not my type. I just spent the whole time wishing I was with Matthew instead_

_TOM: I know what you mean_

_MARY: You mean with Sarah?_

_TOM: No. I actually went on a date a few weeks ago with some girl one of my friends set me up with. I didn't realize it was a date until later though_

_MARY: Oh no! How didn't you realize?_

_TOM: Emily just told me she thought we would hit it off. I thought she only meant as a friend_

_MARY: Thats sounds mortifying_

_TOM: It really was. I feel bad for the poor girl_

_MARY: What was she like?_

_TOM: She worked at an accounting firm and she actually had a daughter, too. She was nice but I wasn't a very good date_

_MARY: That's understandable._

_MARY: I'm done dating for a while. Actually, I think I'm fine being a spinster forever_

_TOM: What's the male version of a spinster? I could be one of those._

_MARY: You're the journalist, you're the one who knows obscure words_

_TOM: Yes but I also didn't go to a fancy school like you_

_MARY: Google says you're a bachelor_

_TOM: Well that's disappointing. It's boring compared to spinster_

Mary rolled her eyes but smiled, laying back down on her pillow. It was late, approaching midnight, but she didn't care. Her night had been less than satisfactory... but at least there was a bright spot to it all.

* * *

_November 8, 2016_

"So I take it you'll be staying in America for a while, then?" asked Mary, trying to conceal her disappointment. The results of the election were in and it sounded as if America would be in for an eventful four years... and because Tom hadn't been talking to her about moving back any time soon in the past couple of weeks.

"Looks like it," Tom said on the other end. "This administration will be an interesting one for sure. I'll be moving to D.C. during December, probably."

Washington D.C... Mary wondered how Sybbie felt about another big move. When she asked, Tom replied, "I've promised her this time that we'll drive— no more airplanes. She's excited about it, since I won't be gone nearly as much."

"Well, I hope it goes well," said Mary truthfully, just as she realized he probably wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. The thought saddened her, thinking of a Christmas tree with only half as many gifts residing underneath it. "When will you be moving?"

"I haven't planned that far ahead yet," he said, almost with a chuckle. "I did start looking at apartments online, though... but it's quite expensive."

"If you need me to loan you anything, don't hesitate to ask," she said, knowing he wouldn't accept any of her money but needing to offer regardless... even though she would much prefer to buy him a one-way plane ticket to England instead.

"Thanks... but I'll manage just fine."

They talked for a few more minutes, only hanging up once Tom's lunch break was through. With a sigh, Mary walked out into the kitchen, digging through the freezer until she found two microwaveable meals for her and George. As his warmed up, she reached for her phone, googling the price of tickets from London to Boston.

* * *

_November 22, 2016_

George slept most of the flight, which made the journey less stressful for Mary. She mainly chewed her gum and watched a film, only dozing off only briefly.

The airport was packed once they landed, and Mary was relieved to spot the woman she only knew from pictures on Facebook in the crowd of people, standing next to her young daughter. "It's so nice to meet you!" Amy Branson said, somehow more petite in person, greeting Mary and George with a smile. "Tom's told us so much about you!"

Her and George were shoved into her Prius, driving through the city. George was bemused by the fact that the cars were all " _driving on the wrong side of the road_ "— though truthfully Mary felt strange riding on what should have been the driver's side.

The building Tom lived in had at least twenty stories, by Mary's estimation, and was made of brick. Amy handed Mary the spare key, reminded her of the room number, and drove off so she could pick up her other daughter from school. Mary thanked her once again for the ride and her involvement in this scheme, and lead George into the building.

The lift smelled of sweaty socks, which was unpleasant, but thankfully the ride to the twelfth floor wasn't a long one. It only stopped once, to let in an older gentleman with a cane and a toy poodle, before bringing her and George to Tom's floor.

"1209, 1209," muttered Mary to herself, as her and George followed the signs to their best ability. The suitcase she had brought along was beginning to feel heavy... if only she hadn't agreed to bring everyone's gifts along—

"Mummy, there it is!" George pointed to a door that was marked _1209._ Mary beelined towards it, unlocking it with haste, before entering Tom's flat.

George frantically ran to find the bathroom, almost immediately, insisting that he had to go. Mary simply began removing her coat and scarf, letting herself soak in the place. He had done more decorating since he had given her his home tour... Mary observed a dead plant on the window sill, overlooking the busy street. There was a framed picture of himself and Sybbie on one wall, playing in what Mary assumed was Liam and Amy's backyard. They were drenched from head to toe, water shooting out from a sprinkler towards them, but they were both laughing.

The guest bedroom, where Mary knew she would be sleeping, was sparsely decorated. Tom clearly used it more as an office, with his desk on the wall overlooking the busy street. Apart from his desk and chair, was merely a futon, one that could be folded out into a bed. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it would be fine enough... if worst came to worst, she could check herself and George into a nearby hotel...

There was a small part of her that wondered if Tom would object to her appearance in his home. After all, it was his space and she was clearly invading it... There were little to no touches of her in this place, simply of himself and Sybbie. There were touches of Sybil as well. There was a picture of her and Tom on his desk, dressed up for a New Year's party at Downton. Sybil's poetry books were all on a bookshelf in the living room, right next to Tom's novels and history books, but several shelves above Sybbie's picture books. Mary smiled when she noted his own paperback copy of the novel he had given her for her birthday. Mary picked up _The Goldfinch_ , it's weight reminding her of why she still hadn't finished it yet. She began flipping through the pages, amused when she noticed Tom's spindly writing in the margins and underlined under certain passages.

There was no trace of Mary at all here, no space that seemed to be set aside for her phantom presence in his life. There were still bits of him left behind at Crawley House— the one sock that had wedged it way under couch and hadn't been unearthed until he left, those obnoxious yellow gloves he insisted on wearing to wash dishes, and the old newspapers she had saved with his articles. But here— well, there was nothing. No pictures, no clothes, no anything. It made her feel more lonely than ever.

The doubts began multiplying as she shifted on the couch again, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "I'm hungry," complained George, tugging on her sleeve as if he weren't standing in her line of vision. "Can't I have a snack?"

"Darling, you need to wait," insisted Mary. What if Tom or Sybbie was mad he had devoured their food? Speaking of food... should she try to make something? Or at least order some take out? It seemed awful, bombarding Tom out of nowhere to make food for two extra people, especially with his birthday tomorrow... But Mary realized with a pang that she didn't know which places Tom liked here. It was essentially like starting from scratch...

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. She ought to have at least asked him before booking the flight...

There was the sound of jangling keys. Mary rose to her feet instinctively, hands in front of her as the door swung open. Tom was glancing down, contending with a plastic bag and Sybbie, who had spotted them. Letting out a squeal, Sybbie ran to George immediately, almost tackling him to the ground with the ferocity of her hug.

Tom, meanwhile, seemed stunned. "Mary?" He was still standing in the open doorway, mouth hanging open.

"Surprise!" She said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, still worried that perhaps he might not see this as a welcome surprise.

Before she could say anything else, Tom crosses the room, enveloping her into a tight hug. A startled laugh led Mary at his constricting grasp, but she hugged him back.

"What're you doing here?"

"Surprising you for your birthday," said Mary once he finally let go. She let her eyes soak him in, trying to catalogue every change that she hadn't noticed over FaceTime. Oddly enough, he didn't seem different at all; just the same Tom, looking extremely happy. "I only hope it's a pleasant one."

"Are you kidding? Of course it is! You know I've missed you!"

It was as if he had never left. The conversation flowed easily, Tom carrying George around on his shoulders and complaining about how much he had grown. Sybbie enthusiastically showed off her room to them both. Mary helped Tom with dinner (or rather, she stood around and talked with him about everything at home as he prepared the meal).

Sybbie agreed to share her room with George, prompting Tom to blow up an air mattress for him. "Do you want to watch her tomorrow?" asked Tom after they had settled the children down. He poured them glasses of whiskey, apologizing preemptively for the lack of wine.

"Of course. She can show the city off to me."

Tom chuckled. "I'm afraid she hasn't had many chances for exploring. I took her to the zoo one weekend, and we went to a museum once, but I've been busy with work. We mostly go over to Amy and Liam's."

"And it sounds as if you're about to be even busier," Mary said, thinking of his upcoming move. Already she had noticed there were boxes slowly being packed. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "But you are happy, aren't you?"

He nodded... but Mary wasn't sure if she quite believed him. "I like feeling like I'm doing something important," he said, taking a sip of whiskey. "That I'm bettering the world, at least in my own small way."

"I'd hardly call it small," said Mary softly, surprised by how dismayed she was to hear him put his career down. "Weren't you telling me just the other day that the future president was calling 'very rude' on Twitter? I'd say you're making some waves."

Tom chuckled. "He called me 'very mean man'. And I suppose I am making an impact, but... I miss Downton far more than I ever realized I would." Mary didn't realize she had begun holding her breath. "I miss that bench I would go to when I was feeling down, I miss Mrs. Patmore's cooking... and most of all, I miss the people." When he said that, he met her eyes. Her heart clenched. "I've even started dreaming about it. Is that silly?"

"Not at all."

He cracked a small smile before sipping his whiskey again. "I'm glad you're here, though." He leaned back on his couch. "I really have missed you... more than anyone else."

Though she couldn't help but be pleased by that admission, it was also a touch too emotional for her contend with. "What about George?" She teased.

"You and George are tied. Obviously." He gave her a strangely dopey smile. It occurred to Mary that perhaps the whiskey was working faster in loosening his tongue. She would have to remember that... "But please... don't tell anyone else?"

"What a shame," teased Mary, smirking. "And here I thought I'd have a chance to gloat to Edith..."

It struck Mary as strange when she finally settled into the futon in the guest bedroom, how comfortable she was. Maybe it was the jet-lag, but Mary had expected to be all out of sorts upon finding herself in Tom's new home... but with him and Sybbie here, it merely felt like an extension of home.

* * *

_January 17, 2017_

_MAMA: Phyllis is engaged!_

_MAMA: 💒👰_ ❤️

_MARY: Be sure to extend my congratulations. To whom?_

_MAMA: Mr Molesley... The teacher 👨🏫_ _NOT Granny's gardener! That's his father!_

Mary blinked. She knew Molesley— He was a history teacher at the local school and always volunteered to be an additional tour guide during the summer holidays when the tourists were in full swing. She just hadn't realized that he knew Phyllis... she would have to ask Thomas about it in more detail.

_MARY: Do they want to marry at Downton or do they have another venue in mind?_

She figured this was the reason Mama was telling her about her assistant's engagement. Mary knew Phyllis, of course, and thought she was a nice woman, but she didn't really know her very well.

_MAMA: I don't know her. Will have to ask her._

_MARY: Well, be sure to let me know as soon as possible so we could book them. Reservations for weddings are filling up quickly this year._

_MAMA: OK 👍_

* * *

_February 2, 2017_

"Oh my God, I just love it!" squealed Rose, running to hug Mary. "You look stunning!"

"It's not too drastic?" asked Mary, pleased by the expressions of astonishment everyone in her family was wearing. Rose was the only one responding with any enthusiasm, whereas everyone else seemed to be in various stages of shock. George, of course, had been present for the hair cut, and his reaction had still been entertaining.

"Oh, no, of course not!" Rose studied her. "You look like one of those flappers from the twenties! I absolutely adore it!"

Mama's " _You look very nice, dear_ ," didn't quite ring true and Granny's remark about how she looked unrecognizable was hardly a compliment, but Mary was pleased. She liked creating a stir, doing the unexpected. As long as she remained unpredictable, she could never be boring.

However, Edith's reaction was unexpected. "Do you really think that is appropriate?" She hissed, obviously disgruntled as she began cutting the cake.

"What are you talking about?"

Edith scoffed. "Honestly, only you would debut a new hairstyle on a two year old's birthday!" Before Mary could let out a laugh, Edith fixed her with a furious glare, "You ruined enough of my birthdays. Can't Marigold have one that isn't spoiled by her selfish, attention-seeking aunt?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "I needed a hair cut, Edith. How does my hair spoil things for your daughter?" Maybe it wasn't the best idea, antagonizing Edith as she wielded a knife, but she couldn't resist adding, "I doubt Marigold even realizes it's her birthday, and there's no way she'll remember it." When Edith continued to say nothing, Mary spitefully added, "If anyone is liable to ruin her day, it's you. I know I wouldn't want a Mummy who was no fun."

The look in Edith's eyes was almost murderous. "Shut your mouth!" Her exclamation drew the attention of all attendees, including poor Jack, who looked stunned. Though he had been with Rose for quite some time, he hadn't exactly witnessed any of the famous Crawley sister fights. "You don't know how hard it is, being both a mother and father to a child—"

" _I_ don't know?" demanded Mary, now truly angry. Edith might be the host of the Agony Olympics, but Mary was fairly confident she could win gold in this category. "In case you've forgotten, my husband is dead! I'd say I know plenty about raising a child on my own!"

"Up until now, you've always had Tom to deal with all the difficult parts! You've barely had to lift a finger!" Mary saw someone advancing towards them, which came somewhat as a relief.

There were a million awful words on the tip of Mary's tongue but all it took was a reminder that Tom would be displeased if he learned Mary had completely split apart the family to persuade her to hold back. Instead, she demanded to know, "How does my new hair have anything to do with any of this?"

"Edith!" Mama hissed before her sister could respond, now at their side and looking extremely uncomfortable and upset. "May I remind you that Rose has brought Jack along?"

"So?" Edith asked rather nastily. She glared at Mary before saying, "If he wants to be a part of this family, he might as well see what he is getting into."

Mary said nothing, merely rolling her eyes and walking away. She wished Tom were here— not just because she missed him and because she could use his wise words just about now, but because it would have been a marvelous opportunity to demonstrate how Edith was just as liable to start a row as herself.

* * *

_March 18, 2017_

_THOMAS: Call me_

Those two words sent fear in Mary's heart. She dismissed herself from the couch, where George was watching a cartoon, and stepped into the bathroom. She dialed him immediately.

"What's wrong?" She asked upon him picking up.

"Nothing." She let out a sigh of relief. "For once in my life, I have some good news."

"Oh?" She sat on the toilet lid, now placated.

"Jimmy was just over... and he asked me on a date."

Mary's eyes almost popped it of her head. "Jimmy?" As in Thomas's Jimmy? As in aggressively heterosexual Jimmy Kent? Though, Mary supposed, if he was asking Thomas out a date, it meant he wasn't so aggressively heterosexual after all.

"He's realized he has feelings for me." Thomas sounded like he was in the clouds.

All her fears melted away, Mary smiled. "That's absolutely wonderful! I'm so glad for you!" She had her apprehensions, of course— She still remembered how bad it had been before, how hurt Thomas had been. Still... This boded well.

"Thanks."

"When's the date?"

"Next Tuesday."

Her birthday. Mary's smile faded. She had planned on inviting him and possibly Anna over for some cake and wine to celebrate her thirty-first. She wasn't about to tell him to cancel his plans. "Well, I hope you have fun," she said, crossing her legs and doing her best to not let her disappointment sting. "You had better tell me everything."

"I will. Don't worry."

At least there was that small consolation.

* * *

_March 29, 2017_

_ROSE: I have to tell you something_

_ROSE: Jack just proposed. We're engaged!_

_MARY: Are you serious?_

_MARY: Thats wonderful! I'm so happy for you!_

_ROSE: Thank youuuuu 💖💖_ _I've never been so happy in my life!_

_ROSE: It won't be a big wedding, we'll probably just go down to the courthouse and then maybe have a small reception somewhere... but we're going to do it right after I've graduated_

_MARY: That soon?_

_ROSE: Why wait?_

_MARY: As long as you know what you're doing_

_ROSE: I've never been so sure of anything in my life_

_ROSE: You can't tell anyone but Jack's mother is sick. His dad can't really look after her by himself, so he's going to move back to Chicago soon. I was already planning on moving back with him but the only difference is we'll be married now_

_MARY: Really? But what will you do in America?_

_ROSE: It's America, not the wildness. I'll find something in Chicago. And like I said, I was going to move there, anyway. I really really love him_

_ROSE: I just already know that I want to be with him forever. He's the one for me. Does that sound crazy?_

_MARY: Not at all._

_ROSE: Also... I don't think I'm going to invite Mummy to the wedding. Is that awful of me?_

_MARY: Of course not. If anyone tries to make a fuss, I'll support you_

_ROSE: It's just that she's so mean to me... and I don't want her to say anything awful to Jack. You know how she is and I don't want to deal with that on my wedding day_

_MARY: I don't blame you at all, Rose. And no one else should either. You're an adult and you're entitled to make the best decisions for yourself_

_ROSE: Thank you so much Mary. I really can't thank you enough_

* * *

_April 1, 2017_

For obvious reasons, Mary thought it was a joke when Mama texted her to let her know Edith was bringing a date to dinner. Her response of " _Lol, good one Mama"_ had not been appreciated.

"What's he like?" Tom asked later once Mary had returned home, leaning against the arm of his couch.

"He's very nice," said Mary, legs curling under her body as she lowered herself to her bed. Truthfully, she was tired of wearing this damn dress, but there was no way she was changing now. She half regretted telling Tom so soon, especially since he was dying to know the details about Edith's mystery boyfriend. "His name's Bertie Pelham and he's a real estate agent in London."

Everyone had adored Bertie; Granny had fawned over how gentlemanly he was, Papa was impressed by the small fortune he had accumulated, and Mama was pleased her daughter was so happy. Mary was just relieved her sister had finally found someone who was roughly her own age and unmarried for once.

The children had liked Bertie, too; he had taken the time to get to know them and play with them, even. Instead of suspecting that he was trying to butter Mama and Papa up, Mary found herself genuinely believing that Bertie wanted to make a good impression on George and Marigold.

"Are they well matched?"

"I think so," said Mary, deciding not to remark that she felt he could do better than Edith. Ever since Tom had left, Edith had been trying her nerves, from Marigold's birthday party to derisive comments here and there about Mary's parenting abilities. "At any rate, they seem happy together."

"I can't believe I didn't know she was seeing somebody," breathed Tom. "How long had it been going on?"

"They met around Christmas in London," explained Mary. She leaned against the headboard before saying, "Don't feel badly about it. I didn't know until today."

"Still," said Tom, gnawing on his bottom lip. "I would have thought she would have mentioned something."

Mary suddenly felt a pang in her heart. Poor Tom... he must feel so isolated. Her resentment towards Edith only festered at the thought of her excluding Tom. "Does she talk to you often?" Mary asked, tone more severe than she had intended it to be.

Tom shrugged. "Here and there. We mainly talk about the news, it seems like." He sounded more than a little sad about it. "She asks about Sybbie, too. I try to send pictures."

Now Mary was all but fuming. Still, she wouldn't let it show. "She still probably talks to you more than she talks to me," she said lightly, adjusting herself into a more comfortable position.

Tom chuckled, but the mirth wasn't there. They chatted a little longer, Tom only hanging up when he realized the time at home. "It's only a Sunday," insisted Mary, settling down on her pillow. "I can sleep in."

"We can talk more in the morning. Get some rest," Tom said firmly, but with great affection. They exchanged farewells and Mary let out a sigh, eyes falling shut. Time to take off this dress...

But before that, she had something she needed to do.

She opened up her texts from Edith, the last one from a month ago when she reminded Mary about Marigold's birthday party.

_MARY: Just because Tom doesn't live near us anymore doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's really hurt that he had to find about your new boyfriend secondhand, so you really should talk to him._

With no qualms about her wording or her tone, Mary hit the send button and sat up, hands already moving unzip her dress.

* * *

_April 19, 2017_

Mary lifted the fork to her mouth, watching her family. Rose looked radiant, still in her wedding dress and the family tiara still perched on her head. George and Marigold were chasing one another through the room, Mama and Papa were chatting with Shrimpie, and Jack's parents were huddled over near Granny and Isobel.

The cake was good, Mary would admit, raising another bite to her lips. She normally partial to chocolate cake, but this was scrumptious. Mrs. Patmore had really outdone herself this time.

Someone tapped Mary on the shoulder. She hoped it wasn't Edith...

"Oh my God!" She nearly dropped the plate to the ground, uncaring that her voice had attracted so much attention. She sat her cake down, pulling him in for a hug and kissed his cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I hope you aren't disappointed," Tom teased.

"Of course I'm not!" Mary was still astonished and perplexed to see him here, looking so well...

Sybbie was hugging her knees, looking far too grown up. "And what about you? I thought I told you to stop growing!"

"I like your hair!" Sybbie blurred out, seemingly out of nowhere. "It's pretty!"

"It does look nice," admitted Tom, and Mary grinned. "It looks even better in person."

Soon the whole family had gathered around Tom and Sybbie— Rose and Jack, thank God, didn't seem to mind their reception being overshadowed. Introductions were made for Bertie and Tom, hugs were exchanged, and Mary's cheeks had begun to hurt from all the smiling, still in shock that he was here...

"How long are you planning on staying?" Papa asked him, clapping a hand on Tom's back.

"Forever, if you'll have me," Tom said, now making eye contact with Mary. "You don't mind me moving back in, do you?"

"Of course not!" Words couldn't begin to express the joy she felt.

"What about your job? In Washington?" asked Edith, sounding amazed.

Tom shook his head. "It wasn't the right fit for me... and I realized this place really is my home... and you're my family."

Mary's smile only grew.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Ten**

_April 2017_

Adjusting back to their former living situation was a surprisingly easy transition. George and Sybbie didn't mind sharing a bedroom again, thankfully, and Tom and Mary split up the household chores just as they had before. In some ways, it felt as if they had never left.

Sybbie was due to start school that upcoming autumn, something her and Tom both had difficulties adjusting to. "I just can't believe it," he said one evening. "It seems like she was born only yesterday."

Mary agreed, thinking of the happier memories surrounding her birth. Mary remembered holding her, still recalling the way tears had sprung to her eyes when she looked down at her. " _Isn't she the prettiest baby you've ever seen_?" Sybil had cooed, looking tired yet proud in the hospital bed. And Tom... Tom had been over the moon. Matthew had offered to take him out for a drink but Tom had declined, not wanting to part from his daughter for a single moment.

"I'm having a hard time believing she's nearly five," she said, marveling how close Sybbie's birthday was approaching. She was glad now that the birthday present stowed away in her bedroom wouldn't have to be shipped across the ocean now.

Tom let out a groan. "Don't remind me— I'm having a hard enough time dealing with the fact I'll have to send her away."

"All children have to go to school," said Mary, smirking. She couldn't resist teasing him— even if she too couldn't quite believe it was time for her to go.

"I'll remember that when it's George's time to go," Tom said almost sulkily.

"As if you won't be a wreck about that as well," she countered back, knowing how much he adored George. "Let's face it— when it comes to these things, I'm the one who has to remain sensible."

Tom leaned back with a sigh, knowing it was true.

* * *

_May 26, 2017_

It was nearing midnight as Mary and Edith walked out of the hospital. It must have rained at some point during the evening, as the lights illuminating car park caused parts of the pavement to shimmer. "I just wish I could know he's alright," Edith said, close to tears again. Mary couldn't even muster up even the slightest amount of indignation. She was worried as well.

"We'll know more in the morning," she said as they walked to Edith's car. They had followed the ambulance to the hospital. "It won't do Papa any good for either of us to fret over him. All we can do is go home and get some rest."

"Do you want me to drop you off at your house or do you want me to take you back to Downton?" Edith asked as she started up the car. Her hand caught the light, causing the engagement ring on her finger to shine.

Mary shook her head. "Take me to my house, please." Tom was expecting her; she had texted him all the details and made a brief phone call, but it wasn't anything substantive. Her and Edith had been busy informing all the other dinner guests of Papa's condition. She quickly pulled out her phone, which was at 5%, to text, " _I'm heading home now."_

The rest of the ride was quiet— not awkward or strained in any way, but relatively silent. Edith's AUX cord was plugged in, playing faint strains of a Beyoncé song, but the volume wasn't loud enough for Mary to hear the lyrics. It was always at times like this, when she was reminded of the fleeting nature of life, that made Mary wish her and Edith weren't always so combative. Sometimes it was difficult for her to admit it, but she really did love Edith, even though their personalities didn't exactly mesh... but at times like this, it wasn't important.

Edith rolled into the driveway, headlights shining on the garage door. "Give Tom my love," she said as Mary opened the car door.

"I will," said Mary, swinging her legs out and trying to miss a puddle. She glanced back to Edith, wondering if she should say anything before finally telling her, "Get some rest."

"You too."

Mary walked up to the door as Edith backed up into the street. They waved at each other briefly before Mary stepped into the house, feeling bedraggled and beaten.

She heard the television in the other room as she kicked off her heels, feet aching in protest. "Mary?"

"It's me," she called out, and the television turned off. Tom wandered out into the kitchen, dressed in pajamas but not even close to looking as if he was ready to sleep. His hair was still slicked back, courtesy of tonight's dinner.

"How is he?"

"I don't know. I didn't get to see him. They only let one visitor in the room, and it was Mama... They said he was in stable condition but who knows..."

Tom walked towards her, pulling him into a hug. Mary suspected it was more for his sake than hers. Over the years, Tom and Papa had grown close, so close that Papa had often acknowledged that Tom was like a son to him. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him, waiting at home all the whole, wondering what was happening, but someone had needed to watch the children and he had volunteered, along with Bertie, urging Mary and Edith to follow their parents to the hospital.

"What was the procedure called?" asked Tom once he finally pulled away.

"A gastrectomy." The doctor had described it briefly to them, but Mary had been so overwhelmed by everything and couldn't concentrate. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was that horrid sight at dinner, all that blood while everyone looked on in horror. It was fortunate so many of their friends had experience in the medical field, as Dr. Clarkson, Isobel, and Thomas has all jumped into action at once. "I knew his health wasn't the best and the ulcer but... I didn't know just how bad it really was."

Tom didn't try to sugarcoat things or tell her things would be alright. Instead, he hugged her yet again, and this time she leaned on him, knowing this was just what she needed. It took all her effort not to cry. When she finally pulled away, he offered, "Do you want a drink?", to which she responded with a simple nod.

* * *

_June 20, 2017_

"Mabel Lane Fox and Tony Foyle are married," Tom said, resurfacing from his phone as Mary rejoined him in the living room with two glasses of wine.

Mary blinked. Well... it seemed as if they had resolved their issues. Good for them, she supposed, but she hated being reminded of that horrid night at the hotel. "Since when do we pay attention to Mabel Lane Fox?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch inadvertently.

Tom shrugged. "Well, you knew him." He accept the glass of wine from her. "Didn't he like you?"

Mary bit back a curse, wishing she had never disclosed that to him. "He did... but that was ages ago. And clearly he's moved on." She was at least glad he had come to his senses and finally made things right with Mabel, at the very least. Though she didn't know much about the other woman, it was clear she loved him. He'd be a fool if he tossed all that away.

"Clearly," echoed Tom, as Mary took a healthy swig of wine. He glanced back down at his phone, silently scrolling before saying, "It says her show is ending next season, at her request."

"That's probably the best thing for them," said Mary, wishing this conversation would end. Frantically thinking, she asked, "Do you want to enroll Sybbie for piano lessons with Jimmy? I'm signing George up and if she wants to, then we can arrange it so they have classes back to back."

Tom was in the midst of taking a sip while she asked, waiting before responding, "I'll have to ask her. I don't know how interested she is in music."

"Well, it's a wonderful opportunity. It can't hurt, at any rate," she rambled on and on, trying to divert the conversation far away from Mabel and Tony as far as possible. "It's up to her, of course, but you might encourage it."

"I'll think about it," Tom said, before inquiring how things between him and Thomas were.

* * *

_September 20, 2017_

A small, blue figure with _ME_ written above it. Then another figure in orange, with a yellow scribble on its head and two blue eyes, with _JORJE_ crossed out above it, replaced by _GEORGE_. A taller figure in red, known simply as _DADDY_. Another in blue, with _MUMMY_ , the Y overlapping over with the D in the previous word.

Sybbie had brought it home from school, pulling it out of her backpack and hanging it on the fridge with magnets immediately. Mary smiled at it, pleased George had made the cut. In some ways, they were siblings more than cousins... She tried not be bothered by her own lack of inclusion. _Maybe there wasn't enough room,_ she told herself, setting her purse down on the counter, before reminding herself this was a kindergartner's drawing and getting upset over things like this was silly. So she ignored it, apart from telling Sybbie, "That's a very good picture, darling," as she joined her niece in the living room, turning on the TV _._

Tom, however, took more offense. When he arrived home with George from daycare, he stopped in front of the fridge, glancing at the stick figures whilst his nephew ran into the living room to join his mother and Sybbie. Mary was waiting for his usual hello, instead finding silence. Before she could ask what was wrong, she heard him call out, "What's this on the fridge?"

Sybbie, excited, ran out to join him. "It's a picture of us! I made it at school!"

"Not all of us," Tom said, frowning as Mary and George entered the kitchen. "Where's Mary?"

"Tom, it's fine—" Mary insisted, somewhat mortified. There was no need to make a fuss.

"She's there!" insisted Sybbie, jabbing to the taller blue figure. "See? Right there!"

Mary was rendered speechless for once. Immediately, her eyes fell to Tom, who gaped at the picture. "That one says Mummy, darling," he said, blinking quickly. Mary wasn't sure if it was out of surprise or if he was trying not to cry. She hoped to God it wasn't the latter.

Sybbie shrugged exaggeratedly. "Teacher wouldn't let me call her Mary. She said I needed to write Mummy." She glanced back at the picture. "I tried to tell her my Mummy was in heaven, but she said it wasn't true because she had seen her pick me up at school. She didn't believe me when I said it was Mary, so I just wrote Mummy."

"Well, we'll need to have a talk with your teacher," said Tom seriously, bending down to be his daughter's height, "but it's lovely picture. You two can go play now while I make dinner."

George and Sybbie didn't need to be told twice, running out of the room as fast as their little feet could carry them. Mary, leaned against the doorway, stepped further into the kitchen, following Tom as he grabbed all the ingredients he needed. "Can I help?"

"Could you grab the spaghetti from the cupboard?" Tom asked, various vegetables in his hands as he resurfaced from the fridge, nodding to the middle cabinet.

Mary obliged, trying not to be put out. Since his return, she had been trying to improve her culinary skills as to not place the full load of the cooking on him and thought it best to learn from the expert himself. Unfortunately, her attempt to make shepherd's pie had resulted in nearly burning down the house. They'd ate pizza instead, once the smoke cleared from the kitchen, and the charred brick of a pie went directly into the bin.

"I think I could manage boiling the water," she told him, standing on her tip toes to reach the pasta. She was tall but the cabinets in this house were clearly made for someone taller— unusual in houses as old as this one.

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, looking up from the cutting board with a smile on his face.

"Well, it can't be that hard," she insisted. "You can't burn water."

"Actually, you can," he smirked, causing Mary to let out a groan. Deciding this subject was futile, she sat the pasta on the counter before pulling up a chair and angling it to face his back.

There were a million different things she wanted to tell him about— Thomas's insistence that inventing a ghost would draw in more visitors to the estate, Isis's new puppy that followed guests around on tours, Edith's constant texts asking Mary for advice on her upcoming wedding that seemed to come all hours of the day and night. None of that came out of her mouth, though, not after she glimpsed Sybbie's drawing again. "You didn't need to get so upset over a drawing," she told him, the words sounding harsher than she meant it. "I didn't mind not being included."

"Really?" Tom sounded dubious.

"Yes, _really_." She glanced at the picture yet again. It was almost better, she thought, when they had all assumed she wasn't there. Knowing now that she was the _Mummy_ in the picture felt strange— as if she had unwilling usurped her sister.

"I don't believe that for a moment. You love Sybbie."

"Of course I love her— but it was just a drawing." Maybe if she spoke it enough, it would come true, and that initial, inconsequential sting she had upon looking and not seeing herself would have never existed. "It doesn't mean anything. So I don't think you need to speak to her teacher about it."

Tom stopped chopping, turning to her. "So what happens when a child has two mothers or two fathers and the teacher doesn't believe them? Or if there's a single parent?"

"I think we're a rare exception," Mary insisted. "Not many young girls in this day and age live with their widowed aunt and cousin. Sybbie and I look enough alike— I'm sure I can easily pass as her mother." She thought of the cashier from the store before Tom and Sybbie had left for Boston. "It was probably an innocent misunderstanding."

Tom shrugged before turning back to his previous task. "All that aside, I don't like that she called my daughter a liar when she was speaking the truth. If Sybbie had been wrong, it would have been up to one of us to correct her when she came home."

Mary still thought he was making a bigger deal out of this than it warranted but continued to sit there, glancing every so often at herself in Sybbie's picture.

* * *

_December 31, 2017_

George fussed about as Mary dressed him in his suit. "I don't like yellow," he complained, looking down at his bow tie, which was sitting on his bed next to his stuffed elephant.

"I don't either," confessed Mary dryly, doing up his buttons. "But Auntie Edith does, and it's her special day."

George was quiet for a moment. "Why's Auntie Edith getting married?"

"Because she loves Uncle Bertie." Mary reached for the bow tie. It had been quite some time since she had done this... without permission, a smile crossed her face. Matthew had been more than capable of dressing himself, of course, but had always loved asking Mary to do up his ties for him. When she looked at George, she saw so much of his father.

"Why aren't you married, Mummy?" He asked innocently.

Mary felt like she had swallowed glass. She blinked, tears welling up behind her eyes. Edith's wedding day was stirring up all sorts of memories, more than any other wedding seemed to have done. Maybe it was because she knew Sybil should be here, all three Crawley sister married and happy. "Because I was married to your father once... and I haven't fallen in love since."

George considered this carefully. "Do you miss him?"

"Terribly." Her voice was now a whisper and her vision blurry, making it hard to concentrate on his tie. She paused for a moment as she gathered herself, before carrying on.

"I wish I knew him," George remarked sadly, eyes downcast.

"Me too, my darling," Mary said, lifting up his chin to meet his eyes. She kissed his forehead. "You can ask me about him any time you want to... or Uncle Tom. He knew him, too."

George managed to smile, a sight that always warmed her heart. "Come alone now," Mary said, rising to her feet. "I need to change and then we'll head off to the church with everyone, alright?"

* * *

_January 19, 2018_

Edith and Bertie seemed deliriously happy when they met with Mary and Tom at the restaurant in London. It was almost disgusting... clearly, the honeymoon wasn't over in their minds yet. They kept kissing one another and giggling, lost in their own little world. Mary felt secondhand embarrassment, sipping her wine to alleviate her own firsthand embarrassment from sitting with two people so oblivious to their surroundings.

"You're probably wondering why we invited you out tonight," said Edith, beaming from ear to ear after the entrées came out.

Mary exchanged a dubious glance with Tom, who seemed as perplexed by all this as she was. "Not really," she said bluntly, "Aren't we just having a nice dinner together?"

"Well, yes and no," said Bertie, reaching for his fork and knife.

"It's just— we're so happy," gushed Edith, giving Bertie an adoring smile. "And we want you both to be as happy as we are."

It occurred to Mary what this was... and she was furious. She might have said something if Tom hadn't seemed to instinctively realize she was going to say something and gave her a _Look_. It was his wordless way of saying, _Let me handle this._ "That's very nice of you— but I don't think either of us are really ready for that sort of thing yet."

Edith looked disappointed but remained undeterred. "I wouldn't be suggesting these people if I didn't think you'd be well suited." She was practically pouting as she said it. "And besides, we've already told them about you and they're interested."

This time Mary couldn't hold back. "Well, you'll just have to inform them that we aren't."

Edith's incredulity was rather funny but Mary felt sorry for putting that stunned look on Bertie's face. She reached for her wine yet again. An awkward silence hung over the four of them until Tom, the diplomat who bridged the gaps between Mary and Edith, said, "It isn't that we are unappreciative. It's only that... well, we were happy like you once. And that sort of thing only happens once in a lifetime." He managed a small, though clearly pained smile. Mary wanted to reach out and take his hand, just as she would if they were home alone talking of such a thing, but such a thing seemed too intimate for a place like this.

Edith still looked as if they had spat at her and called her terrible names, but Bertie seemed much more understanding. "Of course. Neither of us have any idea what it's like, what you've gone through." He reached out, taking Edith's hand. It made Mary feel alone, wishing she had taken Tom's hand. "But— well, we understand if things don't work out with these people. We just wanted to give you an opportunity to meet people that you might be well suited to." Bertie offered them each smiles. "Maybe you'll only ever be friends. Or maybe you'll never want to speak to them ever again. Whatever you decide. We only wanted to present you with an opportunity to have some fun."

Mary had done all that. She thought of Justin and Tony and Charles... She preferred the idea of staying home with Tom and the children night after night to going out on a date with whomever Edith and Bertie had chosen for her. Knowing Edith and her low opinion of Mary, she had probably selected a man who was an absolute ogre in both personality and looks.

She was shocked when Tom said, "Alright."

She had no time to react, eyes wide as Edith practically shrieked at a pitch only dogs could hear, "Do you mean it?"

"Why not?" Tom shrugged, not looking particularly enthusiastic. He speared a couple of green beans with his fork.

All eyes were on Mary, save for Tom's. "What about you?" Bertie was directing that question at her.

Mary felt overwhelmed. Her eyes sought out Tom's, but she found no guidance there. He was staring ahead, chewing his food. Feeling as if her window of hesitance had slipped past her, Mary found herself choking out, "Okay."

She was met by Edith's squeals, a brilliant smile from Bertie, and Tom... well, Tom was saying nothing. Mary simply glanced down at her almost full plate, suddenly no longer hungry.

* * *

_February 7, 2018_

His name was Henry Talbot and he was a friend of one of Bertie's friends. Mary knew very little about the man— she hadn't bothered to look him up or anything like that. They had exchanged a few texts, agreeing to meet up at a bar for a few drinks. _To keep it casual,_ he explained.

So Mary didn't put much effort into it. She wore a cozy cardigan, a pair of dark denim jeans, and a pair of ankle boots. After all, she figured he would probably bore her to tears, she would spend the whole evening wishing she was home, and would return home with a dozen complaints that Tom would have to listen to.

"Let me know if the place you're going to is any good," Tom said disinterestedly as she walked to the doorway, purse in hand. "I'm trying to come up with some place to go with Laura."

Laura was Edith's editor and a close friend... as well as the woman she had selected for Tom. They had been talking roughly around the same length of time Mary had been speaking with Henry. " _Don't you think it's a little dangerous?"_ Mary had asked Edith in the bathroom of the restaurant. " _Mixing work with family? Won't things be awkward if they don't work out?"_

Edith had merely smiled smugly. " _Oh, I'm not worried. They'll get along. I know it."_ Her complete confidence in the match made Mary's stomach turn. Edith had quickly explained that Laura and Tom had briefly met at her wedding and Laura has developed something of a crush on him, frequently asking Edith how her " _cute brother-in-law_ " was...

Tom was more unbothered than Mary thought he might be when she dramatically revealed this to him. " _I remember her_ ," he'd said. " _She was nice."_ In the following weeks, he didn't talk about her much, nor did he express much excitement about their upcoming date.

"Of course." She threw him a smile over her shoulder as she pulled her coat on. "I'll see you later."

* * *

_February 23, 2018_

John opened up the door, looking grim faced and unspeakably sad. Mary hugged him almost immediately, knowing he too must be devastated. She would never categorize their relationship as a close one, but she had always liked the man and loved him for the fact he brought so much happiness to Anna's life.

"Thank you for coming," he told Mary when she pulled away.

"Of course. How is she?" Then, she asked, "How are you?"

John shook his head. "I didn't even know. She said something about how she wanted to surprise me, but..." He blinked, clearly growing emotional. "I just hate seeing her like this. She's so sad."

Mary nodded. She had told Mary about the struggles her and John were having, about her desire to have a baby... Mary remembered her own fertility struggles too well, but at least she had been spared the pain of realizing she was pregnant only to lose it a short while later. "Where is she?"

Anna was in her bedroom, eyes red and nose pink. Her cat, Felix, was on her lap and she patted him listlessly. "Oh, Anna," she said, heart aching at the sight of her friend like this. Mary sat down on the side of the bed, reaching for her hand.

"This isn't the first time," admitted Anna, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand a short time later. "We— we don't seem to have a problem getting pregnant... I just can't seem to keep it." She broke down yet again. This time, Mary's hug came without awkwardness or reservations.

The topic eventually strayed from Anna's woe to happier things. "You like him, then? Henry?"

"I do," Mary confessed, glancing down at the quilt on Anna's bed. It almost didn't seem to be right, talking about all the things making her life happy when Anna seemed so sad... but sometimes a distraction was nice and Anna had deliberately steered the conversation in this direction. "He's different... but nice." She smiled, more to herself than her friend.

"I'm glad," Anna said. She didn't sound it, but Mary believed her. "After all you've been through... you deserve some happiness."

"So do you," Mary said, meeting her eyes. Even when Anna glanced down, she continued with, "And you'll get it."

"Will I? Or is this all a sign? A sign I'm not meant to be a mother."

"Anna," began Mary, almost a bit disapprovingly, but without any harshness, "if anyone I know is meant to be a mother, it's you." Even when they were just eighteen at university, Anna had been effortlessly maternal. She was always helping people who lived in their dormitories, relentlessly patient with a Mary who was trying to adjust to a life without a cook and housekeeper, and genuinely loved children. If someone as cold as Mary could be a mother, she was certain Anna was destined for it. She paused a moment before asking, "Have you thought of adoption?"

Anna bit her lip, looking teary again. Mary felt terrible for stirring up her woes once more but sensed Anna needed someone to talk to about all this before she went to John. "I've thought about it... but I'd like to know what it's like. To be pregnant... and sometimes I worry John wouldn't want to."

"You know he loves you... he'd do anything for you."

"I know," insisted Anna, wiping her eyes. "But I just... I want to have his child. But I just can't seem to!" She broke down yet again, shoulders shaking as tears escaped her. Mary hugged her yet again.

When she left several hours later, she jotted down Dr. Ryder's contact information on a slip of paper before handing it to John. He had been downstairs, staring at a cup of tea and looking very solemn. "When she's ready for it, please give this to her," Mary murmured. "He's based in York and he's a wonderful doctor. I think maybe he could help you."

John managed a weak smile. "Thank you. For all of this." He paused before adding, "I know seeing you has cheered her up some."

Mary really wasn't certain she had done much... but she supposed she had given Anna someone to talk to, and maybe that was good enough.

* * *

_March 3, 2018_

Mary glanced at her tiles. An X, a B, two Os... She glanced over at Sybbie's, relieved to find some more options there. It was a game night, something they had recently established. George had requested to play Scrabble, but since he and Sybbie were still learning to read, it meant they were playing as teams.

Her phone screen lit up as George leaned across the table to spell out _RED._ "Very good!" Tom praised him as he put the tiles up there. "Now it's Sybbie and Mary's turn..."

Mary had picked up her phone, frowning everything out as she read the message.

_THOMAS: He said yes!_

Mary dropped her phone, letting it clatter on the table and causing one of her tiles to fall of its little shelf. Before Tom could ask, she was rising to her feet. "I need to make a call quick," she said, beaming from ear to ear. "Thomas and Jimmy are engaged."

Tom grinned. "Tell them I said congratulations!"

"I will," said Mary, ducking out of the room, just as she heard George ask, " _What does engaged mean?_ "

* * *

_April 2, 2018_

"I really thought they would work out," bemoaned Edith as they sat at the café. Mary had run up to London for some business and invited Edith out for lunch. She had half hoped her sister would say no, but it turned out she wasn't all that busy.

Mary said nothing, figuring it would only be unkind. Tom's romance (if it could even be called that) with Laura Edmunds has fizzled into nothingness in short order, with them mutually agreeing to remain friends... though it was obviously just a hollow agreement, as to Mary's knowledge they had never spoken since.

Tom's heart hadn't been in it. He liked Laura, he insisted when Mary pried, but he claimed nothing clicked. After needling him some more, Tom finally admitted he hadn't ever really truly entertained her as a romantic interest.

"I can't get over her," he had confessed, and at once Mary regretted pushing him to respond. "And it isn't even just that I'm incapable of it... it's that I won't let myself. I won't allow myself to just... forget about her." He had looked down, gaze trained on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. "She was everything to me."

All her playful teasing gone, Mary had ruminated on his words. It was the same way she felt, in so many ways. Until Henry, she had never actually contemplated being in a truly serious relationship again. Matthew was her great love; no one else could ever think to compare.

But Henry was different. It wasn't love, as Tom had teased when she had come home from the first date, dizzy with excitement. It was more that she finally felt like she had been woken out of slumber. The part of her that actually longed for romantic companionship had been dormant so long that she had forgotten what it felt like. With Charles (and even her short lived fling with Tony), she had merely been going through the motions and flattered by their attentions. But now—

"Just because you're with someone... it doesn't mean you'll forget about her," Mary offered up, his words both making her sad and guilty, as if a deficiency of love Matthew was what made being with Henry somehow so easy.

"I know." Tom stared down at his lap, looking still so lost. "But it feels wrong... being with someone else, when I'd much rather be with her."

There was a lump in her throat. "I understand."

"No. No, you don't." Mary was startled but Tom turned to her, no resentment or bitterness to be seen. "You understand me better than anyone, but not this. And I'm glad you don't." He glanced back down at his lap. "You deserve to be happy."

"So do you." She reached out, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Tom shook his head. "I know. But I don't think I ever will be. At least, not in that way." He swallowed. "I don't— I don't even want to get married."

Mary blinked, remembering his drunken confession at New Year's all those years ago. At the time, she had assumed that they were the ramblings of an emotional, drunk man who was reliving all the misery and agony of losing the woman he loved. Now, even though almost six years had passed, he was still firmly tied to his resolve. Perhaps he really did mean it.

Mary hadn't known what to say, merely offering him her silence. He hadn't cried that night, thank God (at least not in front of her), but there had been a gloominess that hung over them both until the next morning, where they hadn't spoken of it since.

"At least things have worked out for you and Henry," Edith said with more than an undercurrent of annoyance in her voice, snapping Mary back into reality. She said nothing, merely reaching for her drink, which prompted Edith to ask, "Are things serious?"

"We're taking things slow for now," was all Mary said, thinking of the kisses they had exchanged in the tunnel that one rainy night and the way her heart had worked overtime. "Seeing where it goes."

It wasn't the answer Edith was looking for, as evidence by the scowl on her face when she thought Mary wasn't looking. Mary merely smirked to herself. _Good_.

* * *

_May 19, 2018_

Mary wondered if she should even ask... but not asking was killing her. "Why isn't Henry invited to the wedding?"

Thomas glanced up from his laptop before swiveling around. "It's a small venue," he said carefully. "We're limited on guests."

Mary wondered just how many people were invited. She knew full well Thomas wasn't inviting his whole family... maybe his sister and his younger brother, but Mr. and Mrs. Barrow certainly wouldn't be in attendance. Jimmy was an only child whose parents had died in a car crash when he was eighteen, so all he might be inviting were cousins. Unless they were marrying in a shoe box, Mary suspected there would be enough for at least one extra...

"Is that the real reason?"

Thomas dealt her a _Look_ that clearly read: _Do you want to know the truth?_ "I'll be less mad if I know the reason now than if I learned you've been lying to me later," she told him truthfully.

Thomas sighed. "Fine. It's the official reason."

He had a long pause, which prompted Mary to ask, "And the unofficial reason?"

"We'd like to spend our wedding day with the people we care most about."

Mary blinked. That was more than a little disarming. Anna and John were invited... and Mary knew for a fact that Thomas didn't like John. At all. They had gone on a triple date, back in February, the three couples, and Anna had hit it off with Thomas and Jimmy, slowly becoming their friend as well. It wasn't uncommon for Anna's name to be mentioned in conversations between Mary and Thomas these days or for Mary to hear about Anna stopping by Jimmy's studio to ask for musical information for a character in her book.

Furthermore, the Carsons were invited. Granted, Thomas had never had a bad word to say where Elsie was concerned, but he had quarreled with Charlie frequently. During those months when she had been unable to come to work, Mary was well aware Thomas had butted heads with Charlie frequently.

"And you don't like Henry?"

Thomas hesitated. "I think you could do better. That's all."

Mary didn't know how to feel about that. "I see." She tried not to be annoyed, especially when she had specifically asked, but it was hard to hear. "He hasn't... well, he hasn't said anything offensive, has he?" Henry had never indicated he was bigot to Mary, but then again, most people didn't advertise that sort of thing. The last thing she wanted was to find out her boyfriend was treating her friends poorly.

Thomas shook his head.

She turned back to her laptop, wondering if this was some sort of a bad omen.

* * *

_July 21, 2018_

The tears didn't come until she had hung up. Even when she closed her eyes, all she could see was the fire engulfing the car. Her knees had nearly given out, Papa catching her before she had careened into other onlookers. She couldn't tell whose car was whose, couldn't remember which number Henry's car was...

She had hugged him when the ambulance arrived, more composed by that point. His neck, which always smelled of his aftershave and his laundry detergent, had a smokiness to it. It made Mary want to gag, just as she had when Tom had held her by the waist saying, " _It's Charlie Rodgers' car, it wasn't him—_ " She had hunched out over the metal bin, hands gripping the sticky edges, disgusted and wondering what was wrong with her.

"I have to go," Henry had said, sounding close to tears. "His wife—"

"Go." She drew away. "I understand." When their dark eyes locked, Mary had made her mind up.

She had always intended to wait, though.

"Why did you do that?"

Mary spun around. She knew Tom was listening in the whole time. He had been in the next room but it wasn't as if there was any other noise and she hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Because I can't do this anymore," she answered, meeting his eye and trying to emulate the Mary Crawley she had once been. That girl had been so strong— Ever since Matthew's death she had been such a fucked up mess.

"Why?" He sounded like a parrot, repeating the same word over and over. "You like him... You _love_ him," he corrected. Mary's jaw tightened. "Why wouldn't you want to be with him?"

"It's not enough!" She did love Henry... Or at least she loved how she felt when she was with him. His life was exciting and exhilarating, the sort of thing she had always thought she would want in a man. Matthew's life hadn't always been full of daring thrills, but she had never been bored with him... and it was hard to complain about Henry boring her.

"Is this about what happened today?" Tom asked, as if it could be about anything else.

Mary's lips trembled. "I can't do it anymore, Tom. I can't bear to lose someone else that way." Granted, accidents like Matthew's happened all too regularly— It was the result of human error. But after witnessing the conflagration that afternoon, Mary knew it would be excruciating to endure it a second time... and with Henry's profession, he had a higher chance of meeting such an end. "Especially when I'm expected to be sitting in the stands, cheering him on," she added bitterly.

Tom walked towards her, wrapping her into a hug. Mary sank into him, letting him be her rock once again. For the first time since that horrible crash, she felt safe. Secure. Mary closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Gone was the trace of smoke or sweat, simply Tom. All of it was shattered mere seconds later. "He would understand if you stayed home," he murmured. "Really. He would."

God— was he still going on about Henry? It wasn't that she unsympathetic; if anyone knew how wretched Henry must feel after losing his best friend in such a horrible way, it was her. But what about her? What about her anguish? What about that fear that had started the moment the cars set off, thrumming inside her when the engines roared as they circled the racetrack? What about watching the car burst into flame after it rolled over three times, only reminding her of how Matthew's Prius had turned over thrice? What about the fact a man had died almost the same way her husband had and she had sat there and watched it happen?

Mary wrestled her way from his grasp. "You don't get it!" Her voice was much too loud, at a pitch and volume that would easily rouse the children, but Mary didn't care. "I'm done with it! I'm done with him! I can't do it anymore!"

"You're only saying that because of what happened!" Mary thought it was a damn good reason, but Tom still seemed determined. "The grief has been stirred back up for you— and I know it hurts. I know it does."

Just for a moment, it seemed like her understood. It really did. He saw her pain, understood she was in agony—

"And it's frightening," continued Tom, "knowing you can get hurt again— but you will be hurt again, and so will I, because being hurt is part of being alive... and it's not reason to give up on Henry."

Henry, Henry, Henry! It was always about Henry! "If you're so concerned about him, why don't you just date him?" spat Mary, beyond annoyed and frustrated by him. "He's single now!"

"For one thing, I'm not really his type," Tom said, and it took everything within Mary to not roll her eyes. Of course he could joke at a time like this. "You are. You're the one he loves, and he loves you. Why would you give that up?"

Mary ignored that question, uncertain of what answer she would give. "Why are you interfering? Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I love you and I want you to be happy!" Tom exclaimed back, any good naturedness fading as irritation won out. "You're my best friend and I've seen you through the worst of it!"

Tears were leaking out of the corners of Mary's eyes. The exhaustion of the day coupled by the fact Tom seemed to think now was the time to challenge her meant her ironclad control over her emotions had slipped off cleanly. "It's not what I want!" she cried out, unable to think of anything else.

Henry had many qualities that Mary admired. Sometimes she even liked the person she became in his presence. Being with him reminded her of being young...

But it wasn't enough to hide the fact his whole career revolved around cars and driving them at high speeds. It was something he loved, something Mary knew would pain him to give up. It boiled down to a simple lack of compatibility—

But Tom didn't see it that way. Maybe it was Mary's own fault, letting Henry into her world, meeting her family. Henry came to the house often, giving George toy cars and even once a guest to one of Sybbie's tea parties. He stayed late into the evenings, almost replicating the sort of nights her and Tom would share with Matthew.

In a short time, Henry had become not only Mary's boyfriend but one of Tom's closest friends. They had a bond that existed outside of her... Mary might have been jealous if it hadn't revolved almost solely around their shared love of cars.

That thought brought Mary back. _Cars_... the crash, the racetrack, her hospital bed, Papa, the helium balloon traveling up up up...

"You of all people should be able to understand why I can't go through that again!" The words clawed their way out of her throat. She couldn't look at Tom, but even she could, Mary doubted she would be able to make him out clearly through her tears. She felt so angry all of a sudden and all her ire was directed solely at him. "You know what it's like! Why would you want to watch me go through that again?"

"I don't." Tom sounded almost hurt. He took a step towards her but she backed away. "But I don't think you should give up on him. Not yet." He swallowed. "Nobody else has made you feel this way since Matthew. Why would you throw it away?"

"Why would I listen to _you_?" Mary countered, injecting as much venom into her voice as possible. "You're the one who refuses to even _consider_ another woman!" It almost seemed hypocritical to Mary, to shove her at someone when he couldn't even look at a woman in that light. "You've even told me you won't ever marry, so why are you trying to shove me down the aisle?"

Tom was rendered silent for a moment. _Good,_ thought Mary viciously. "This isn't about me," he tried insisting when he regained his ability of speech.

"You've _made_ this about you, Tom!"

"He's the one for you, Mary!" Now he was the one silencing her. "If you're ever going to be with someone long term, it's Henry. I can just— I can just see it."

She couldn't deal with any of this anymore. Not him, nor Henry—

Mary shoved past him, their shoulders knocking into each other as she walked towards the stairs. Tom made no movements to stop her, simply watching her sadly as she disappeared from view. Mary had to practically grip the bannister, more physically tired than she even realized.

When she finally crashed onto her bed, face buried into her pillow and weeping, it wasn't because of Henry or Charlie or even because of Matthew. It was because of Tom, and the realization he was not on her side.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments! Unfortunately I am going to have to cut back to a once a week updating schedule as I am now back at college (even if it is virtually) and no longer have as much free time for writing. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Eleven**

_September 17, 2018_

She glanced down at the ring again, unused to its weight on her finger. The silver band caught the light whenever she moved, the diamond large and demanding attention. In some ways, it was almost too grand... even for her.

But how was one supposed to turn down an engagement ring without turning down the proposal?

"Still admiring it?" Tom teased, reentering the room with topped off glasses of wine. Mary accepted hers with a smile as Tom said, "It really is a beautiful ring."

Mary didn't voice her real thoughts, in case Tom had played any part in its selection. "I never knew you were such a matchmaker," she told him wryly.

Her relationship with Henry had been given a new breath of life last month when Tom offhandedly suggested they go to a nice restaurant in York. " _Just the two of us,_ " he had said, " _It'll be fun_."

Naturally, she had agreed, not knowing his dastardly scheme... but she figured out quickly when the table reserved for Branson already had someone sitting there. Mary had nearly dropped her purse to the floor at the sight of Henry, already browsing through a menu. "I'll leave you two alone," Tom had told her, smiling. "I've been a part of this long enough."

She had wanted to leave with him, humiliated and wondering why he was putting her through this... but then Henry had spoke and drawn her in. "Please— if for nothing else, than let me have this for the sake of closure."

During the course of the meal, Henry explained everything. He had given up the racing, the thrill of it having been soured by losing Charlie. "I'll just report on it now. Like Tom." He smiled before explaining that he had already lined up a job with a magazine on car racing.

He apologized, for telling her to come to the race. He understood now, he said, how she must have felt. It was at that point their hands had touched. "I can live without it," Henry said, gazing into her eyes. "But I don't know if I can live without you."

Things returned to normal. Mary was finally at ease, no longer on edge when Henry needed to go to a race, for now she knew he was safe in the stands. Mary hadn't really considered how serious Henry was about her until earlier that evening, when they had gone to that same restaurant in York, only for him to pull out the ring.

And now she was in her living room, excited yet feeling somewhat strange, Tom on the couch next to her. "I don't think I'll ever play matchmaker again, to be honest," Tom told her. "For one thing, all the people I care about are all paired off now."

"Except George and Sybbie," pointed out Mary.

"And neither of them are allowed to date until they're thirty."

Mary merely rolled her eyes, knowing he was only joking. Truthfully, the idea of them growing up was a frightful one to her as well. How was it that George was five now? Her little boy was growing up and Mary didn't care for it.

"I'm surprised you're here," remarked Tom, lifting up his glass for a sip. "I would have thought Henry would be better company than me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary said instinctually. "You're my best friend."

"Yes, but I'm hardly an adequate substitute for your fiancé," he pointed out. Mary was willing to admit he may have had a point... but her and Henry had spent plenty of time with one another that evening, and as the one responsible for bringing them back together in the first place, Mary figured he ought to be the first to know and receive her thanks. "Do you know when the big day is?"

"Not yet." Mary glanced down at her ostentatious ring yet again. "We've been caught up more in the excitement of it all to really plan it quite yet."

"Well, congratulations anyway, to the future Mrs. Talbot." Tom raised his glass and Mary clinked hers against it, smiling before taking a sip.

* * *

_October 9, 2018_

George brought home a drawing of the four of them together, proudly displaying it next to Sybbie's. This one was somewhat more grounded in reality— everyone had the right shade of hair, for a start, and they were all wearing clothes.

But it still made Mary uncomfortable. For one thing, everyone was labeled the same way as they were on Sybbie's— _Me, Sybbie, Mummy, Daddy_. In this one, the most fantastical element of the picture was that Mary and Tom were holding hands.

Still, she said nothing, though she pointed it out to Tom later. "I wonder why he drew us like that," she said, pointing at their crayon figures hands.

"Who knows how children come up with these things?" He seemed relatively unbothered, absorbed in taking care of the groceries. "Maybe he just decided to copy Sybbie's."

Mary shrugged. She supposed he was right. Her only worry is what Henry would think upon seeing it. He had taken George out a few times, to little trips at the zoo and even once to a football match he had scored tickets to... But this obviously wasn't a depiction of Henry. The interpretation of all the people in the picture was a more faithful one, and the figure labeled as Daddy clearly had blue eyes— just like Tom's.

She only hoped Henry's jealousy wouldn't flare. It wasn't that he had ever been possessive or anything like that— Only after the whole thing with Charles, Mary felt apprehensive about Henry seeing things between her and Tom that weren't really there. She tried to pay close attention to her actions, doing her best to make it clear everything was platonic, but there were moments here and there where she knew she hadn't succeeded. Mary knew he would be annoyed when she would insist she needed a night at home to relax, asking if Tom would be there (to which the answer was always _yes_ , with a reminder that Tom lived with her and she could hardly avoid him in her own home).

Nobody would question it, Mary thought somewhat bitterly as she reached for a glass to fill with water, if Tom was a woman. Or, rather, if Anna had been the friend to look after Mary in her grief and move in. Everyone would accept it as two friends living together platonically, even though there were plenty of women who enjoyed relationships together that were decidedly not platonic. For whatever reason, Mary had come across far too many people who had a hard time believing a man and woman could be just friends.

Henry hadn't been like that... Henry liked spending time with Tom. He knew how important he was to Mary and respected that. There was no reason to think he might object...

Right?

* * *

_October 20, 2018_

Mary was one of the few guests in attendance who wasn't crying, but even she could admit, she was a little weepy as she watched Thomas and Jimmy exchange rings at the alter. George and Sybbie were standing up there as well, the ring bearer and flower girl respectively. She glanced over to Tom, seated beside her, who was looking more than a little choked up. She couldn't tell if it was because of the heartfelt vows that they had exchanged or because all this was bringing up thoughts of Sybil. She reached over and took his hand, which earned her a smile.

"I'm so happy for you," Mary told Thomas when she danced with him at the reception. He had been waiting a long time to find the right man, and she was grateful Jimmy had finally come to his senses. Though she hadn't always been sure of him, he had proved that he really did care and wanted to make Thomas happy.

Thomas managed a genuine smile— it was sad, to think of a time when that had been rare. Now, they were a much more common sight... "Thanks," he said.

"Where're you going again?" asked Mary, forgetting the honeymoon destination. It was somewhere in Greece...

"Mykonos," Thomas reminded her.

"Well, I hope you have a marvelous time," said Mary, thinking of her own honeymoon with Matthew to the south of France. "And relax— I mean it. I can manage a week without you."

"Are you sure about that?" Thomas arched an eyebrow.

"Positive." With the summer season having come to a close, activity on the estate had slowed down. Sybbie's class was set to go on a field trip this week, but it was nothing Mary couldn't handle on her own.

"Do you mind if I cut in?" A female voice said. Mary and Thomas stopped dancing. It was Phyllis, eyes shining with happy tears. "Joseph and I are just about to leave and I wanted to have one last dance before we went."

"Of course!" Mary granted the woman a smile before stepping back. She kissed Thomas's cheek, before saying, "Congratulations," yet again, and let Phyllis jump in.

Mary began heading back to her assigned table, expecting to find Tom there, but instead found him on the dance floor with Sybbie. George was running around with some other children, other students of Jimmy's, clearly having a wonderful time.

Mary took her seat, slipping her heels off and letting them rest on the cool floor just as Anna joined her, looking radiant and very happy. "Having a good time?"

"I am," assented Mary, leaning back in her chair. She eyed Anna's protruding stomach. "How are you doing?"

Anna beamed. "Wonderful. He's awfully excited tonight... he keeps kicking me. I think he's dancing in there."

Mary laughed, thinking about Baby Bates. Anna hadn't told her what they would name him yet, which meant she was dying of curiosity, but she knew it would be a boy. She was looking forward to his imminent arrival, but she knew Anna and John were even more excited; they had waited a long time to meet him.

"You aren't missing Henry too much?"

Mary's laughter stopped. She hadn't really thought of Henry much this evening... He had texted her once, asking her if she was enjoying herself, and she had answered him when she visited the loo. She wondered if maybe she wasn't missing him nearly enough...

She shook her head in response. "I'm just trying to stay in the moment," she lied, hating how cheesy and insincere it sounded, but Anna didn't seem to notice. It took a moment before she could ask Anna, "You like him, don't you? Henry, that is?"

"I like that he makes you happy," said Anna, which wasn't the same thing... and truth be told, Mary wasn't completely convinced she was happy... or at least not as happy as she _could_ be. Henry was nothing like Matthew; they were both good men but they were drastically different people. She liked being with him but she didn't pine after him while he was away or secretly wish he was here now. It made her question herself, wondering if marriage really was the best choice.

Before Anna had time to question why Mary would ask her such a thing, Mary felt someone tap her on the shoulder. "Care to dance?" asked Tom, holding out a hand for Mary.

"Of course," replied Mary without a second thought. She turned back to Anna before saying, "I'm sorry to ditch you—"

"Don't," Anna waved her off. "John'll be back in a moment. Go have fun!"

Mary smiled gratefully at her before taking Tom's hand and let herself be lead onto the dance floor. "I forgot to put my shoes back on," she realized belatedly as her and Tom swayed back and forth. It was a slowish song and Tom hadn't exactly spent his Saturday afternoons learning to ballroom dance at age fourteen like she had— though admittedly her fourteen year old self had wished she could have been doing anything else at the time.

"It's fine. You don't need them," Tom said, spinning her. Mary's skirt fanned out ever so slightly before she turned back to Tom.

"I hope you realize that I'll be making you dance with me when it's my time," Mary said softly but loud enough to be heard over the strains of the violin in the song.

"What about Henry?"

"He can dance with me as many times as he wants to the rest of his life. It's my day and I want to dance with you at least once."

Tom cracked a smile. "Well, I hardly think you can say you'll be _making_ me do it when it's something I'll do gladly."

Mary beamed, before realizing moments like this wouldn't happen so often once she was married. Maybe a dance or two at a party, maybe a night or two once a month... but Henry would always want to be there, too. It wouldn't be just them anymore...

And for whatever reason, that thought was a hard one to bear.

* * *

_November 2, 2018_

_HENRY: Can I ask you a question?_

_MARY: You're already asking me a question_

_HENRY: Funny, but I'm serious_

_MARY: Go on_

_HENRY: How come you never spend the night at my place?_

_MARY: What are you talking about? I was just over last night._

_HENRY: Yes, but you went home right after._

_MARY: I told you, I wanted to get home in time to say good night to George._

_HENRY: I know. But you've stayed later other nights and then gone home._

_MARY: Those are usually weeknights and I have work in the morning. I don't feel like waking up early to drive back to Downton to change my clothes and then drive to the office_

_HENRY: You could always keep some clothes here. We'll be living together soon enough... and to be honest, it's starting to make me feel bad about myself_

_MARY: What is?_

_HENRY: You never staying the full night. I know you don't mean to, but I almost feel like I'm being used_

_MARY: You're right. I haven't been meaning to do that. I'm sorry._

_HENRY: I know_

_HENRY: Maybe I could stay at your place?_

_MARY: If you'd like... but keep in mind that George and Sybbie are in the next room over and Tom is fairly close by... so I don't know if I would exactly be up for anything_

_HENRY: Very well. But it's hardly as if Tom isn't aware_

Mary started, cheeks burning. What did he mean by that?

_MARY: What do you mean?_

_HENRY: He's not naïve is all I'm saying._

_MARY: Do you talk to him? About us?_

_HENRY: It's come up every now and again. I don't go into detail or anything._

Mary felt uncomfortable. In their friendship, her and Tom had never really discussed their sex lives... at all. Thanks to Papa's nearly Puritanical upbringing, Mary knew she had some hang ups when it came to discussing intimacy and she had never exactly felt the need to disclose any of it with Tom. Considering his initial reluctance speaking to her about possible romantic partners for fear of disrespecting Sybil's memory, Mary figured he felt much the same way. It made sense they wouldn't talk about that sort of thing. Mary was perfectly content to believe Tom had lived a monastic lifestyle following Sybil, never once feeling the need to question it. Though the same couldn't be said of her, she wasn't about to dispel any illusions he created for himself... Though clearly that was all in vain.

_MARY: Well, please stop. I don't appreciate Tom hearing about those sorts of things about me_

_HENRY: I am sorry. I didn't even realize it would bother you. I'll stop_

How could he not realize? Tom was her brother-in-law, for heaven's sake! She doubted he wanted to hear it, either. The longer she thought about Henry telling him these things, the more negative emotions were stirred up. She managed to quell her anger and sent one final text.

_MARY: Thank you._

* * *

_November 13, 2018_

"What's this?" Real estate listing in York had been highlighted, in yellow and pink, the bright colors contrasting against the black and white print on the page of the newspaper. Mary picked it up, scanning it over. Flats, mainly, along with some small houses... two bedrooms.

Tom stood beside her, looking over Mary's shoulder. "I didn't think you would want me living with you. Not after the wedding."

The wedding. It was set for the end of February, the same day as their first date. It was perfectly romantic...

"We haven't really discussed where we'll be living," Mary told him, still staring down at the page, feeling sick to her stomach. "So don't look too far ahead."

"What? You mean you won't be living here?" Tom sounded shocked.

"Just— well, don't plan too far ahead." Truthfully, Mary didn't like thinking about the future too heavily. Leaving Crawley House was incomprehensible to her, but so was the idea of Tom leaving. Neither idea was comfortable to her...

But Tom nodded. "Alright."

—

_December 14, 2018_

_ANNA: Since I'm the matron of honor, do you want me to organize a hen night? I know it's a small wedding party but it might be fun!_

_MARY: Don't worry about it, please. It's my second wedding and you'll have Baby Bates taking up you're time. I don't want you worrying._

_ANNA: Are you sure? I don't mind organizing something small before he's here. It couldn't just be a girl's night watching movies._

_MARY: It's alright Anna. Really. I don't mind it the slightest._

* * *

_December 23, 2018_

It occurred to Mary, as she parked her car in the garage, that she wasn't as happy as she should be. She turned off the headlights, opening the door and stepped out. She felt like she was performing a play, saying the right things at the right times and manipulating her body to go where it was supposed to. When she spent her evenings at Henry's, she had a nice enough time, but her mind was always wandering elsewhere. Even in bed together, Mary found her mind turning to other topics, like what things to add to the grocery list or remembering to finish wrapping up George's Christmas gifts.

Her heels echoed across the cement drive. They hadn't any snow yet, so she didn't have to worry about ice as she walked to the door, which was relief. Stepping in through front door dislodged some of the unease she had felt. The living room light was still on, meaning Tom was likely awake yet. She removed her boots, the heels clunking as she did so.

She found him laying on the couch, one of his action films playing in the screen. While Mary could sit through a Bond film just fine, all his other ones seemed to run together into a giant blur. She had taken to jokingly referring to them as _White_ _Action Man 3_ or _War Movie_. He was asleep, a blanket draped across the lower half of his body.

Mary couldn't resist smiling down at him. It didn't occur to her then that simply seeing Tom filled her with more warmth and affection than a whole evening at Henry's flat had— all that she registered was that she was home.

Mary jostled him awake gently. "Hi," he muttered, pushing himself up. He rubbed his eyes. "What time 's it?"

"A quarter after eleven," said Mary, leaning against the couch.

"I thought you'd be staying with Henry tonight."

Mary shrugged. She didn't know why but she always let him believe that was her intention... most nights he was already asleep when she snuck back into the house, moving through the house like a teenager out after curfew. "I figured it'd be best to be here. I figured the children would want to wake up early to bake treats for Santa."

Tom didn't say anything merely sitting up. "You're right. We should probably go to bed." They exchanged smiles, making their way to the stairs. "Oh, I took care of George's gifts for you earlier. I hid them in my room with Sybbie's."

Mary stopped. "You didn't have to do that," she said, struck but pleased.

He smiled at her warmly. "I know. But I wanted to do it... and I wanted to save you some time panicking over not having the gifts wrapped just yet." He nudged her. "Consider it an early Christmas gift."

Mary grinned, unable to resist asking, "So are you saying you haven't bought me a real Christmas gift this year?"

"Of course not," Tom said, well aware she was joking but answering honestly regardless.

It wasn't until her and Tom said goodnight to one another and gone to their separate rooms that she felt the discontented stillness within her again. She slipped the ring off for her finger, setting it on her nightstand as she walked into her bathroom. She started up her shower, the water washing the night away from her.

Mary didn't slip the ring back on until the following morning, and it wasn't until Tom pointed out her bare finger that she even noticed it was missing.

* * *

_December 30, 2018_

"Are you happy?"

The question startled her. They had been sitting beside one another on the couch, enjoying some eggnog and winding down from the holidays. Mary and George had spent Boxing Day with Henry's family, who she really didn't know all that well and was relieved to be home. "Why do you ask that?"

Tom shrugged. "You don't seem like the typical bride to be. That's all."

Mary glanced down. She twisted the ring on her finger. It was still too gaudy... She hadn't grown to love it as she had hoped she would. She tried to remind herself that she loved Henry and that was the important thing, but she still hated looking at it, even after Henry's sisters and aunts and cousins had fawned over it. "I'm hardly the sentimental type."

"Maybe not... but I remember how you were with Matthew."

Mary gulped. "Henry isn't Matthew," she reminded him. Henry was so different to her husband in so many respects...

"No," he agreed. "But he makes you just as happy, doesn't he?" When she said nothing, his eyebrows furrowed. "Mary?"

She snapped back into reality. "Perfectly," she lied, not wanting to injure his feelings or blame himself for her unhappiness. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel responsible for her discontentment.

Truthfully, Mary wasn't sure what she wanted for her own life, and perhaps that was the real problem.

* * *

_January 16, 2019_

Mary's finger was bare. She was laying on her side, face pressed against a pillow, only half paying attention as Ross and Phoebe bickered on the screen. Her feet were resting on Tom's lap.

When the commercial break started, he muted the television. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mary pushed herself up so she could reach for her drink. "I'm the one who broke it off."

"I'm the one who encouraged you to go back to him." There wasn't much left in the bottle, so Tom drank half of what remained as Mary emptied her glass. He offered it to her, and she swiped it from his hand, not bothering to pour it into her glass.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Tom," she said, a small amount of liquid left in the bottle. She finished it off before concluding, "Feel sorry for him." She curled her feet under her. "He's had his heart stomped on by me more than most." Truthfully, she wasn't even sad— Just angry. The one who would suffer was him.

Tom didn't laugh. She hadn't expected him to. It really wasn't much of a joke. "More wine?"

"I don't know. Not yet."

"Well, I could use some more." He rose to his feet, shirt riding up slightly as he did so, and padded to the kitchen. Mary laid back down, watching the bright colors flash on the television, not really absorbing any of it. A minute or so later, Tom was back with some rosé— her weakness. She leaned forward, nudging the glass in the coffee table towards him, and he refilled it for her.

"So... what happened?"

" _It's my house. Why should I leave it?"_

" _That's fine, but what about Tom?"_

" _Like I said, it's_ my _house. He can stay as long as he needs."_

" _What if he takes my flat? We could swap."_

" _You'll have to take that idea up with him, not me."_

" _I thought the idea of Tom's presence in the same house was a turn off for you."_

" _It is... but I don't feel right, telling him to leave. It's his home, too."_

" _What about me?"_

" _What about you?"_

" _Is it going to be my house, too?"_

" _If you want it to be."_

" _For fuck's sake..."_

" _What?"_

" _Why do I always having this feeling it's you and me and Tom?"_

" _He's our friend. And he's important to me. You know that."_

" _Even so, I don't like coming second in my own relationship."_

" _What are you talking about?"_

" _Shouldn't my feelings matter?"_

" _They do matter."_

" _Well, I've told you I don't know how many times that I don't exactly want to live with Tom, but you're so insistent on protecting his feelings. What about mine, Mary? How do you think it makes me feel, having my feelings constantly ignored?"_

" _Well, I'm sorry for caring about others, Henry. Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I don't want to force my best friend and my niece out onto the streets."_

" _Don't twist my words."_

" _Then don't twist mine. It's my house, and I say Tom and Sybbie are welcome to stay as long as they need it."_

" _Fine. Very well. Have it your way, Mary. We'll live in your house and I'll be the quiet little househusband who says nothing. But Tom won't stay, not with me around."_

" _Don't worry. You won't be around." The ring hit the table._

" _Don't be like this, Mary—"_

" _Don't touch me."_

" _Mary—"_

" _Goodbye, Henry. I hope you have a nice life. It just won't be with me."_

" _Or with Tom, apparently." A sigh. "Mary, you can't just—"_

" _No. Not with me, nor with Tom. And don't even think of repeating a word of this conversation to him."_

" _What's the point? You're his best friend. He won't want to see me anymore, he'll be on your side. There's no sense in me even trying to defend myself." The door opened. "I just hope you realize that he won't always be there. There will come a day when he'll want his independence. Are you ready for that day? Because I don't think you are."_

" _He's done that already and he came back in the end. I'd say he's happy where he is for now. If that changes in future, he won't hesitate."_

" _This isn't about Tom, Henry. This is about you and me. And I am the one ending this relationship with you, because clearly we are never going to agree on this."_

"Nothing, really," she lied, taking a generous swing of wine. "I just— I just realized he wasn't the one for me after all. I can't describe it. There was just this moment where suddenly I finally saw things clearly." She took another sip. It wasn't a lie. Not really. She could still see his sneer, the roll of his eye, chasing her to the door to try and stop her from leaving his tiny flat. She hadn't wanted to hurt him... but she had been right all those months ago; they weren't meant for one another. It was time to accept that.

The moment she had seen her out, she latched onto it. She had a glimpse of a future version of herself, happy on the outside while inwardly a shell of who she once was. She supposed it was best it had come now instead of on the day of the actual wedding; she still cared for Henry and the last thing she would want to do was crush him as Anthony Strallan had Edith. Or worse— What if she hadn't had her revelation until after they had exchanged vows? It was a blessing there would be no divorce, no custody battle to duel over while putting George and any other children through the turmoil.

Tom nodded contemplatively. _Friends_ was back on, but he made no move to turn the volume back on. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out. I really thought he might have been the one for you."

"Me too." Mary wished she had left things as they had been all those months ago... She had been right to break it off then, disillusioned to the fantasy life she had pictured with him. She had liked Henry, but a lifetime with him just wasn't something she could live with... but she wasn't going to say anything of the sort to Tom.

Another thing she would never disclose was how jarred she was by his insistences that Tom would one day leave... not because he was saying them, but because the thought frightened her. The sense of being abandoned had followed constantly during him absence... It wasn't until she drove through the darkened streets of York that she understood how deep that fear ran. It was more potent than her fear of a car accident, more than heights, more than spending an eternity with Edith...

It wasn't being alone. She could spend hours in the company of herself without any worries or cares... she even found herself contented, most times, on the rare occasions she had the house to herself or a car ride in solitude. It was being _left_ alone that bothered her— knowing nobody would come back.

She let those thoughts be drowned out when Tom turned the volume back on as a faceless people laughed offscreen.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twelve**

_January 17, 2018_

The next morning, Mary woke up, her head on Tom's chest, his arm wrapped around her. The top portion of his body was upright, head tipped back between the arm and the back of the couch whereas Mary was sprawled out across his torso. She had drooled on his tee shirt. Her head ached— a side effect from trying to drink away her sorrows. The last things she remembered was bursting into tears, Tom hugging her, and then reassuring her that she wasn't fucked up.

She moved out of his embrace. Tom didn't even notice. Her phone was still sitting on the coffee table. She reached for it, noting that it was at 9%, but seeing she had several missed notifications. She tapped in the passcode.

Ten texts from Henry. She deleted them all without bothering to read, knowing they would all say the same thing. She didn't need to be drawn back in... Three voicemails. She shouldn't listen to them... but Mary held the phone to her ear.

" _Mary— it's me. Henry. I— Mary, I don't know why we've been fighting over this so much. You know I love you, don't you? Why can't we work this out? Please call me."_

There was a twinge in her heart. She really shouldn't be listening to these... as if her heart needed to hurt anymore. Nevertheless, she played the next one. In this one, it was clear Henry had spent the remainder of his evening doing the same thing as Mary: trying to drown away his sorrows.

" _Mary... Mary please call me. I love you so much... you don't even know how much. I just want to marry you, okay? I'm not marrying you and Tom, I'm marrying you and I want our own house. I just—"_ There was the sound of a sob. " _Please don't leave me."_

Tears stung in Mary's eyes. Maybe she had been hasty. Maybe this wasn't such a big issue... She glanced over to Tom, still asleep on the couch, wondering if it was time to sit down and have a tough conversation. It would hurt... but if her and Henry were meant to be...

But they weren't. She remembered that quiet dread she felt, the dissatisfaction that festered inside her unbeknownst to anyone else and reminded herself she had made the right decision. Calling him back and getting back together to spare his feelings would only lead to more heartbreak down the road. It was best to make a clean break now and accept that it wasn't meant to be.

She deleted it along with the other two, hands shaking as she typed out a text message.

_MARY: It's over. Please don't contact me again._

Perhaps it was a touch harsh, but in the end it would save them from more pain.

She walked into the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. She watched intently, still sluggish and tired. A few minutes later, Tom staggered into the kitchen, looking as exhausted as she felt. When the coffee finished brewing, she poured him a cup wordlessly.

* * *

_March 9, 2019_

Mary was painting her nails with precision when George ran down the stairs. "Mummy, can I go with Sybbie and Daddy to the park to play football?"

Mary looked up, smearing red nail polish across her finger. She didn't even notice, too stunned by what her son had just said. "You and who?"

"Oh, sorry!" George said quickly, looking nervous for only half a second before rearranging his features into a blank mask. "Can I go with Sybbie and Tom?"

Mary narrowed her eyes. "You may... but why did you call him that?"

George looked uncomfortable, as if he knew he wasn't supposed to have said it. His gaze diverted itself to the floor. "That's what Sybbie calls him," he mumbled.

"Yes— because he's her father." George still wasn't looking at her, seemingly more interested in the carpet. Mary let out a sigh, suspecting she had done something wrong. "I'm not mad at you, Georgie. You just took me by surprise, that's all."

She heard the sound of the stairs creaking. "George, did your mother say it was okay?" Tom called out. When she craned her head around, Tom and Sybbie were at the bottom of the steps, Tom holding the football in his arms.

"I changed my mind!" George hollered back, and before Mary could ask, he ran away from her, pushing past Tom as he raced up the steps. She closed her eyes, knowing she must have messed things up. She noticed the trail of nail polish running down her finger and cursed under her breath.

"What was that about?" Tom murmured, walking to stand behind the couch.

Mary shook her head, not looking at him. "I'll tell you later." She still couldn't really process what had happened. "Don't worry— I'll deal with it. You two have fun."

Mary waited until Tom and Sybbie had left (and for her nails to dry) before going upstairs to check on her son. He was laying in his bed, his toy elephant tucked under his arm, staring at the ceiling. He looked so very solemn and serious, far too somber for a five year old. Mary stepped in quietly. "Darling," she began, "Will you please tell me what this is about?" He didn't look at her. "I won't be mad. I promise." She sat on the edge of his bed.

"I wish I had a real dad."

Mary blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I had a dad like everyone else."

Tears stung in Mary's eyes stung. "You did. For a short while." Those brief moments in the hospital room before the accident had been the only time the three of them had been a family. It wasn't fair— not to Matthew, not to her, and certainly not to George. Had he lived, Matthew would have been the best possible father. "And he loved you. Very much."

George finally looked up. "I know." He kicked one of his little legs. "But I want a dad I can play with."

"Darling, I'm sorry things didn't work out with Henry," she said, suspecting this might be part of the problem. For all his faults, Henry had made a real effort to be involved with George. He gave him piggy back rides and took him out for ice cream. George had been upset when Mary informed him that she wouldn't be marrying him after all, especially when the only reason she could give was " _He wouldn't have made us happy, Georgie. Not in the long run."_ Maybe, when he was older, she might be able to explain, but she would never repeat those parting words to another soul.

"I know. But I still want a dad." He stuck out his lip. "Why can't Tom be my dad?"

"I— well, I'm not married to Tom, darling," said Mary, startled by his question. It seemed to come out of nowhere, even though this whole mess had started because of it.

"Why not? We live together! All my friends' parents live together!"

"That's not the kind of family we are, Georgie—"

He let out a frustrated cry, turning away from her. "I don't want to talk to you anymore! You're mean!"

"I'm not being mean!" insisted Mary, who was horrified by how terribly this was going. She couldn't help but think of all those times when she told Matthew how she wasn't cut out to be a mother— and how true it was. Maybe with Matthew by her side, she might have been enough for her little boy, but clearly she wasn't. "I'm only telling you the truth! Please don't be upset, darling—"

"Go away!" He howled.

Mary didn't know what else to do. She kissed him in the side of his forehead, even as he let out an angry noise, saying, "I love you. Very much. And I wish you had a father, too. But I can't give one to you, no matter how much I want to." She left the room, tears in her eyes, before returning downstairs.

When Tom found her, she was at the table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram on her phone. Sybbie had tucked the football under her arm, though it seemed rather cumbersome given its spherical shape and her small arms. "Hi Mary!" She greeted Mary with a bright smile before hurrying up the stairs.

She hadn't even said anything before Tom asked, "What's wrong?"

It all came pouring out. Mary didn't cry, thank God, but it was hard to admit all this even to Tom. He listened patiently, carefully to what she said, how felt. When she was done, he sat there quietly.

"Why couldn't I be his father?"

Mary blinked. "What?"

"If you don't mind, that is," he added hastily. "If it would make him feel better... he could call me Dad." He glanced up at her, nervous. "I'd never try to replace Matthew but... I know what it feels like." She knew he was thinking of his own father, who had died when he was young and never seemed to speak of much. "George is the closest thing to a son I have... and maybe it's not exactly conventional, but when has this family ever followed the rules?"

Mary was rendered silent, stunned. She couldn't help but think of Henry's insistences that Tom would eventually leave again. She hated the idea of George's heart breaking as he lost yet another paternal figure...

But his heart was breaking now.

Mary nodded. "If you think it will help, then I'm alright with it."

Tom grinned before reaching across the table, to where her hand was. "You're like a mother to Sybbie, too, you know." He swallowed. "It's not what we wanted for them, nor what we thought we'd give them... but you and I— we can be enough for them."

Mary didn't want to cry— so she didn't, even though she felt traitorous tears welling up in her eyes. "I know."

* * *

_Spring 2019_

It was jarring, at first, but Mary soon got used to it. In a way, it simplified things— when Mary had to pick the children up from a birthday party, Sybbie would simply say, "That's my Mummy, Mary," to the parents before climbing into the car. She didn't even start anymore when George would run up to her and ask if he could go with Daddy to the grocery store.

They settled into it. Sybbie still called her Mary most of the time... that is, unless she wanted something. "Mummy, can I _please_ have more ice cream?" She would ask, giving Mary those puppy dog eyes. They were a fatal combination.

"Just one more scoop," Mary said, adding a small scoop to her bowl. "Don't tell your father." It was the thing she said when she indulged the children, usually when giving them sweets, and in the end she always caved to Tom, who would only scold her half heartedly for it. He never stayed mad at her— not for long.

Of course, not everyone saw it as an ideal solution. "Mary," began Granny one afternoon after she paid a visit to Crawley House for some tea, "My hearing isn't as good as it once was... but I could have sworn Sybil called you _Mummy_ instead of Mary." She let out a titter of laughter. "Perhaps it is time for me to replace the batteries in my hearing aids."

Mary stiffened, stirring the milk into Granny's tea. She wished Tom were here— he had been the one to smooth things over with Papa when he had caught on to the new way things were done. He was always much better with words than she was...

"Don't worry, Granny. Your hearing aids are working just fine." Once it was the right shade of beige, Mary rejoined her grandmother at the kitchen table, handing her the cup— she had made sure to serve her with the antique china that had been gifted to her and Matthew by Granny. The sunlight was shining in through the window.

Granny arched a grey eyebrow. "Why didn't you correct her?"

"Because it isn't that big of a deal." Mary sat down as well. "Sybbie knows that I'm not really her mother... but she's lived with me almost her whole life. In some ways, I am like a mother to her." She squirmed internally under Granny's gaze, but refused to let it show. "And before you are startled, George has started calling Tom _Dad_."

Granny seemed to have nothing to say for once. She let out a sigh before lifting the tea to her lips. Mary followed suit, wishing the moment would pass without any more remarks. She loved her grandmother; as a little girl, Sybil had always been the one who Mama doted on, whereas Edith was always trying to do something to earn Papa's approval... but Mary had always looked up to Granny, who had always been the member of the family she saw the most of herself in. It was why, even though she hated the idea of disappointing her, Mary wouldn't budge just to satisfy her.

"It seems a peculiar sort of life the two of you have created," Granny finally said. She sat her cup down on the saucer in front of her. A half eaten biscuit sat there, edge to the lip of the place. "One that would hard for another person to enter."

Mary let out a sigh, understanding her meaning perfectly. "I don't think there was any danger of that sort of thing happening anytime soon, even without this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Tom has said as much to me," Mary said, stirring her own cup, feeling the grains of sugar that had yet to dissolved scraping against the bottom of the cup. "And after the whole ordeal with Henry, my heart isn't it."

Granny nodded, contemplating it. "Well, I won't pretend that I'm not pleased you didn't go through with it... He was a nice man, and he had his moments, but he wasn't the one for you." Mary reached for her tea again. "But I hate seeing you give up so soon. Your best years are still ahead of you, you know... You don't have to spend them alone."

Mary knew that was true. Nearly everywhere she went, she attracted the attention of the male sex, who found themselves drawn to her. Nevertheless, so few of them appealed to her. Mary had rather exacting standards and wasn't about to settle... Not after Matthew.

And furthermore... "Even if I never find another man, I won't be alone. I'll have Tom."

Granny gave her a pitying look. This time, Mary was unable to restrain herself, flinching ever so slightly. "Will you?"

"Tom doesn't have any interest in that sort of thing," Mary insisted.

"Maybe not right now," Granny assented. "But he was with that dreadful Sarah woman for quite some time... and wasn't Edith trying to set him up with that friend of hers?"

"She tried and it fell through. He wasn't interested."

"Yes, but that was some time ago, Mary," pointed out Granny. She reached for her biscuit, dunking it in her tea before saying, "At some point, he will want to find someone."

All this talk was beginning to agitate Mary. "He's already said he doesn't want to," she said for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"People say a lot of things." Granny popped the biscuit into her mouth. Mary glowered into her cup of tea. "But we so often change our minds. Tom's no exception."

Mary said nothing, but thought of Tom's unwavering devotion to Sybil. It was possible one day he would change his mind... but that seemed as if it were in the far off distance. Even now, after seven years had passed, Tom remained unable to forget Sybil.

"Maybe he will," said Mary, "but I'm not holding him back." She was reminded too much of the conversation with Henry.

Granny's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe not intentionally... but what is a potential girlfriend going to think of Sybbie calling you _Mummy_?"

Mary balked at what her grandmother was saying, even though she supposed she understood. It would be off putting, in a way... "She doesn't call me that all the time," Mary justified.

"All it would take is once," pointed out Granny, who was now finishing up her biscuit.

"It was Tom's idea," Mary insisted, not liking all of this being shifted onto her. "So if he ends up having problems with it, then I think it's up to him to fix it."

"But what if it causes problems for you?" asked Granny. "You're an attractive, intelligent young woman, Mary, and furthermore you've been in a long term relationship far more recently than Tom has. It's not impossible that some young man would take a shine to you."

"No, but it's unlikely I would take a shine to him."

"I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life; I only wanted to point out some of the setbacks of your new... _arrangement_. What you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you, my dear." Granny took another sip of tea before segueing into a conversation about the newfound romance between Isobel and Mary's godfather, Dickie.

* * *

_July 28, 2019_

It was a hot summer's evening, over six months since that night, when Mary finally gathered up the courage to ask, "Do you hear from Henry?" They were at the park, eating ice cream out of styrofoam cups whilst George and Sybbie ran around the playground.

Tom started, giving her a strange look. "No," he said, glancing down at his ice cream. "No, not really."

Mary frowned. After their first breakup, Tom had remained in contact with him. She blinked. "Just because I'm no longer with him, it doesn't mean you two still can't be friends," she informed him.

"I know that. But he doesn't." Now it was Mary's turn to give him a strange look. Tom elaborated, "Or at least, he doesn't want to. Not for a while, anyway." He looked down at his ice cream, which was in the gradual process of melting. "I've left the ball in his court. If he wants to start talking again, we can, but he didn't seem interested in that for a while."

Mary felt guilty. "So I've ruined everything," she lamented.

"Don't say that." Mary lifted up her head to find Tom looking back at her. "You haven't ruined anything. At the end of the day, I have my best friend and she seems much happier now than she was before. I'd say it's a vast improvement."

Mary smiled. "But what about Henry?"

"Henry was my friend, and I'll admit it was nice to have someone to talk to who loved cars as much as me... but he wasn't making you happy. I see that now. And I'm sorry," he said, now hurriedly, "for convincing you to take him back. I feel like I only made things worse in the end."

Mary shook her head. "Don't be." She knew plenty of people might look at it that way and while she could hardly say much had come out of her relationship with Henry, she was willing to overlook in favor to her life now. "I only feel guilty about hurting his feelings and damaging your friendship."

Tom shook his head. "That's not your fault." She could hardly see how it wasn't... but then again, perhaps he was choosing to look past it, just as she was looking past his stubborn insistences she be with Henry. "Henry needs a break from me. I understand." He finished up his final scoop of ice cream before saying, "Do you think we should go home?"

"Probably," Mary said with a sigh, checking the time on her phone. "Should we let them watch a movie tonight?"

"Why not?"

"I suppose that question depends on if you are ready or not to watch _Frozen_ for the umpteenth time," said Mary with a smile which only grew wider as Tom's faded.

"What if we made a rule that we can only watch it once a week?"

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," said Mary, rising to her feet to throw away her garbage. "You can sing along with me. Surely you know all the lyrics to those songs by now."

Tom sighed. "I do," he admitted, managing a smile before they called the children over.

* * *

_September 4, 2019_

"A baby?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Mary reminded herself now wasn't the time to get irritated with Thomas for delivering important news conversationally. "Well, congratulations!" exclaimed Mary, beaming. "I'm pleased for you!"

Thomas grinned, looking chuffed. "Thanks."

"Well, when will I meet Baby Barrow-Kent?" asked Mary.

"Don't know yet," said Thomas, glancing to his computer. "One of Jimmy's friends has offered to be to be our surrogate and to give us the egg... so it'll take some time before everything's settled but... we're excited."

"And I'm excited for you," said Mary, beaming ear to ear. Jimmy was great with children, of course, and Mary had observed Thomas with George and Sybbie enough to know he'd be a wonderful father.

* * *

_December 25, 2019_

It had been an accident. Obviously. The eggnog (among other things, like the sherry for Santa) clearly had gone to their heads, leading them both to act like complete imbeciles.

"Shh!" Mary hushed him in between giggles as Tom tripped over a present (ironically enough, it was her gift to him: a pair of slippers to replace his old ones), nearly careening into the sliding door. "You have to be quiet! We can't wake them up."

"It's okay," Tom said, trying to balance himself. His hands were pressed against the glass, leaving imprints of condensation behind before they vanished. "They'll just think it's Father Christmas."

Mary put another wrapped present under the tree, trying to maintain equilibrium while squatting before finally realizing such a thing would be extremely difficult and finally sat down to shove it under its branches. "We're going to have headaches in the morning," she told him before letting out another giggle, pushing the present under the tree.

Tom staggered across the room, stepping away from the Christmas tree with exaggerated movements that caused Mary to laugh yet again. "Why d'you laugh so much when you're drunk?" He asked, looking decidedly amused as he loomed over her.

Mary shrugged, grinning up at him. The lights from the Christmas tree and the fire cast a glow on him. He looked... well, _pretty_.

Apparently, she'd said the last bit aloud, because Tom countered back, " _You're_ the pretty one, not me." She was somewhat embarrassed, but Tom offered her his hand a second later. "Need help getting up?"

Mary nodded, placing her hand in his. It took some effort, from both of them, to tug her to her feet, but eventually she stood at her full height. She didn't let go of him, liking how warm his hand was and desperately needing to lean on him. "How are we going to get up the stairs?" Mary whispered, suddenly thinking of the battle they were in for.

"Carefully," answered Tom.

They gripped the bannisters on either side of them and one another as they climbed up to the first landing, where Tom's room was. "Can you manage okay?" He asked, eyeing the next ten steps that lead up to Mary's room.

"I think so." She was somewhat daunted by what was going to feel like perilous journey, but maybe if she crawled up the stairs... Mary turned around. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," said Tom, grinning at her with a strange, admiring look in his eye. Mary swayed in place, seemingly unable to move, utterly transfixed by him. He just looked so handsome, the lights from the living room still shining on part of his face.

Without stopping to think if it was a wise idea or not, Mary leaned forward, her lips pressing against his. _What are you doing?_ A voice inside her head demanded, realizing now that it was a mistake. He wasn't kissing her back...

Until he was. And in that moment, Mary allowed herself to enjoy it, marveling at the feelings it was eliciting. Who would have known Tom was such a good kisser? She should have done this years ago...

For a few minutes, nothing else existed. Mary gasped against his mouth, prompting his tongue to seek access. One of his hands had snaked around her waist, gripping her hip to hold her upright and the other was cradling the back of her neck, both succeeding in bringing her closer to him. Her hands were on either side of his face, thumbs brushing against smooth skin.

There was no elegance to it— in fact, it lacked all semblances of finesse. It would have been a disgusting display to any onlooker, but Mary couldn't get enough. It had been ages since she felt this exhilarated... She couldn't think straight anymore. All coherent thought was driven out of her mind and Mary moved herself closer to him, determined to savor it.

It wasn't until they heard a sound of a door creaking open that they parted. Mary leaned against the wall, spine pressing into the window ledge whilst Tom backed up against his door. Sybbie clambered out into the hallway. "Oh. It's just you."

"Who else would it be, darling?" Mary asked, somehow managing to speak.

"I thought it was Santa." She looked very grumpy, but it was hard to tell in the dark. She certainly sounded disgruntled. "Why are you awake? Santa won't come if you're still up!"

"We're just going to bed now," Tom told her, sounding remarkably sober. "And he won't come if you're awake, either, so go back to sleep."

Sybbie grumbled before going back to her room, door shutting behind her.

Mary let out a sigh of relief that she didn't realize she had been holding. Her mind was still a little muddled, but the shock of Sybbie almost finding them had sobered her up a bit. She turned to look at Tom, whose posture had gone rigid. When their eyes met, there was a moment of silence. "Well... goodnight, then," he said finally, hand reaching for the door knob.

"Goodnight," echoed Mary, turning away. She reached for the hand rail, holding it tightly. She heard Tom's door open and shut before she had even reached the final step.

When she collapsed on her bed, Mary stared up at the ceiling. Sleep usually came easily to her after a night of overindulging, but this time her mind was racing. She had _kissed_ Tom... and he had kissed her _back_.

Mary waited, for those pinpricks of guilt she was supposed to feel that would slowly consume her but instead she felt nothing of the sort. Instead, her mind kept straying back to that kiss, reliving it each time she closed her eyes.

She was less astonished by the fact that she had kissed Tom now, more amazed that they had kissed each other and that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process. In fact, she would be hard pressed to name anyone since Matthew who had succeeded in giving her so much pleasure from a simple kiss. _Pleasant_ was the nicest thing she could manage from her previous three dalliances, maybe a _Quite nice_ for Henry and Charles at their best but never anything reaching the magnitude of what she had experienced with Tom.

Furthermore, now her brain was contriving ways of making it happen again... which even in her still drunken state, she realized was a bad idea. There was no possible way that could happen again. Ever. To say nothing of irreparably damaging their friendship and possibly besmirching their dead spouses, Mary was fairly convinced that kissing Tom likely wouldn't even be halfway as good if she was sober. That must have been part of the reason why she had forgotten Matthew and Sybil so easily... obviously.

But in a strange sort of way, Mary wasn't convinced they would mind. It would be one thing if either or both of them were still alive, as that would obviously be a genuine betrayal, but now that they were both gone, it was safe to say Mary and Tom had created a bond completely separate from either of them. It wasn't even completely unheard of anymore for in-laws to marry after losing their spouses... and any rate, Mary could confidently say that if Matthew to have any say in choosing a romantic suitor, he would approve wholeheartedly of Tom.

_This is nonsense,_ thought Mary, tossing and turning. What was she thinking? Obviously nothing could ever happen with her and Tom! For heaven's sake, he was her best friend! Mary groaned into her pillow before resolving to get some sleep... but a part of her knew it would be hard to sleep when she kept picturing that kiss each time she closed her eyes.

* * *

Mary managed a scant few hours of sleep before George and Sybbie threw open her bedroom door, jumping onto bed with squeals.

"Mummy! Mummy, wake up!"

"Santa's been here!"

"Come on!"

She felt like a zombie as she was lead down the stairs, moving woodenly as the children ran to the tree. Grey light streamed in through the windows, the rising sun hidden by thick clouds. Her gaze lingered on Tom's door and she found herself wondering if she had imagined it all... or if it had been a realistic dream.

However, upon setting her sights on Tom when she made it to the bottom of the stairs, Mary knew it had really happened. He made no indication that he too remembered the kiss but Mary just instinctively know it wasn't the product of her imagination. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hand. He held out the red mug to her, which she accepted gratefully, their fingers brushing together. She started ever so slightly but gave no other indication it had affected her.

"Thanks," she said, voice thick with sleep.

"I thought you might need it."

Was he going to mention it? Did he even remember? Mary thought she had been more far gone last night, but perhaps she was mistaken. Nevertheless, she sipped her coffee, and eventually the two of them migrated to the couch as the children ripped open their gifts.

They weren't granted a moment alone until the children were sent upstairs to dress for Grandmama and Donk's. Mary was about to go up the stairs to do the same before Tom asked, "D'you mind if I had a word with you?" He sounded oddly nervous.

Mary wanted desperately to run away from it but nodded. "I suppose we should."

"Right." Tom scratched the back of his neck, displaying a small hole in the armpit of his shirt. "I guess... Well, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" asked Mary, confused. "I was the one who..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to say it.

"Really?" Tom's eyes widened. "I thought it was me." Mary sat there for a moment, for once uncertain of what to say, which prompted Tom to asked, "But everything with us... it's okay, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Mary said, only now relaxing. She wasn't certain what it was she had been dreading, but every fear was obliterated just then.

Tom smiled back at her. "I suppose it was bound to happen at some point," he said, leaning against the bannister. "Considering how long we've been friends and all."

Mary blinked. "Does that sort of thing happen to you often, then?" She asked lightly, but heard her voice go up in pitch. "Kissing people when you're drunk?"

Tom shrugged, now looking a bit sheepish. "I wouldn't say _often_... but it's been known to happen a time or two." He shifted nervously. "It happened more when I was younger."

Mary suddenly remembered Edna and felt sick to her stomach. Something about this disconcerted her... and for some reason, knowing it was entirely meaningless encounter bothered her more than it should. She should be pleased, shouldn't she, to know Tom wasn't about to confess to having secret feelings for her or something like that? "Well, I can't admit to ever doing the same," Mary said, still flustered,"but I suppose I know what it's like, for things to get out of hand."

Tom let out a relieved sigh. "So we're okay, then? The two of us?"

Something about the way he said it caused Mary's stomach to flip in a good way. Maybe it was because his voice had dropped down, quiet and low, or maybe it simply because their eyes had locked, meaning she was momentarily hypnotized by the bright blue... "Of course we are," replied Mary, almost a little too breathlessly. Then, when she realized what she sounded like, she composed herself to say, "I think it would take an awful lot to spoil things between us."

Tom let out a soft laugh. "You're probably right. We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"We certainly have." Births, deaths, breakups, weddings, funerals... There wasn't a single milestone the other hadn't been present for. They were inextricably linked to one another, for better or worse. Mary honestly couldn't think of anything that could cause their friendship to fracture... and something as innocuous as a drunken kiss certainly wouldn't dissolve it.

They exchanged a smile. "We'd better head upstairs and get dressed," said Tom, glancing down at their Christmas pajamas.

When their hands brushed as they walked up the stairs, Mary ignored the electric current that seemed to spark through her body. _Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself, sparing a glance to the man beside her, _It's Tom. Everything's completely platonic._


	13. Chapter 13

**New Normal**

**Chapter Thirteen**

_January 22, 2020_

_TOM: I have a date tonight. You can manage kids by yourself, right?_

_MARY: I can... But may I ask how long you've known you had a date?_

_TOM: ... a week._

_TOM: Please don't be mad._

_MARY: I'm not mad. Just warn me in advance next time._

She was mad. More at herself than him, but she was annoyed nevertheless. The text had come like a sucker punch to the gut, causing her to freeze up as she read and reread the initial text over and over again.

Why she felt this way, Mary could not say. Tom was her friend, after all. He had been alone for so long... he deserved some happiness. All the same, the fact he had a date was troubling her in a way it shouldn't.

Mary blamed that stupid kiss. She wished she had never done it; it had only created hairline fractures in their relationship where none had existed before. She could forget about it once and a while, only to suddenly have her attention drawn to his lips, and then she was able to remember it again as fresh as the day it had happened.

She shoved her phone aside, examining figures. There had been a gradual uptick in tours of the estate, which meant it would make sense for more tour guides to be hired...

Mary picked the children up from school later, driving them home. "What's Daddy making for dinner?" Sybbie asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"I'm not sure yet. I'm fact, he's going out tonight, so we might be on our own." It seemed too optimistic to believe he would have time for such a thing... especially since Mary knew none of the specifics.

Sybbie frowned. "Where's he going?"

What an excellent question. Where was Tom going? "You'll have to ask him yourself," she said, injecting as much cheer into her voice as she possibly could, determined not to be passive aggressive about it... that is, at least not in front of George and Sybbie.

As Mary parked the car in the driveway, she thought about her next steps. Should she walk in, cool and unbothered, with another careful reminder to tell her next time? Or should she wait until the children were upstairs before demanding to know why he hadn't told her?

But when she entered the house, purse in hand and sunglasses still on, she found all her anger had dissipated. Sybbie and George were already at the table, eating cheese toasties. Tom was dressed in a white shirt and dark blue trousers, looking very suave. A matching blazer was hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Her mouth went dry at the sight, slowly taking in his appearance. He flipped the sandwich in the pan. "Hi," he said, smiling once she entered.

"Hi." She was baffled— why wasn't she angry? She should, shouldn't she? It was as if the mere sight of him like this had caused her brain to short circuit, forgetting there had been a reason to be upset in the first place. "What's all this?"

"Dinner. For you three." He met her eye. Mary realized he was wearing a new tie... and was that a new cologne? It smelled good, whatever it was. "The one in the pan is yours now. I didn't realize how late I was starting."

"Oh, no, that's fine." Mary felt as if she couldn't form words together properly. She couldn't remember every seeing Tom this dressed up— at least, not without her prompting. The only other times he had done such a thing were for weddings or work events... but he always complained about it and normally wore the same suit. This... this was different, though. "What time is your date?"

"Our reservation is for 6 o'clock," Tom said, leaning against the counter. "But I'm picking her up before then." There was nervous sort of energy she couldn't ever remember observing in him.

"Judging by your attire, you aren't popping in for a drink at the Grantham Arms."

He chuckled. "No. We're going to this place she likes in York." Mary's eyes widened slightly. "Have you ever heard of La Mer?"

"I have," Mary nodded. She'd been there once, many years ago, on a date with Matthew. Without thinking, she said, "I'm surprised. It doesn't seem like your sort of place."

Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Mary, furrowing her eyebrows. If she didn't know any better, she would say he was mad at her. "Only that— well, I just have hard time imagining you there, that's all." It was an upscale restaurant and she didn't associate him with that sort of environment. That was what her childhood and adolescent years had been full of— if anything, Tom had taught her to enjoy some of the simpler pleasures of life. She recalled more than one family dinner in which he had gone on rants about the frivolity of such places, about the Abbey, the aristocracy, dressing up for formal events... All in all, it was completely discordant with her image of Tom.

"Why? Because I'm not posh like you?"

Her jaw dropped. "You know better than that," she said sharply, oblivious to the attention they were attracting from the children. "I've just never knew you were interested in all that. That's all."

"Well, I am. I don't know what's so surprising about it."

Why he was so upset, Mary had no idea. She wasn't even angry— she was just taken aback. Steering the conversation another way, she said, "Who is the lucky lady you are wining and dining?"

Tom's shoulders dropped, releasing their tension. "Lucy. Lucy Smith."

"Lucy? I _love_ Lucy!" Sybbie said from the table. Before Mary could ask, she excitedly said, "Can you ask her about her puppy?"

"Of course," Tom said, smiling. "Just for you."

"Who is she?" Mary asked, suddenly confused. She felt as if a rug had been ripped out from underneath her.

"We met her at the park!" Sybbie told her. "She's so pretty, and she has a dog!" Her mouth opens. "Can _we_ get a dog, Mummy?"

"No," Mary replied automatically. "Owning a dog is a lot of responsibility and you two aren't old enough for that yet." She turned to Tom. "How long have you know this woman?"

"About two weeks now. Why?"

Mary thought back to their drunken Christmas kiss, relieved there wasn't any overlap... still, it didn't stop her from feeling both vexed and completely. "This isn't your first date with her, is it?" Her eyes narrowed.

She thought she detected the barest traces of guilt as he glanced down to the pan, eyes steadfastly avoiding her. "It's not," he admitted.

Mary wanted to scream.

 _Why wouldn't you tell me?_ She thinks. _Why was it such a secret?_ If he was hiding it, it meant he was embarrassed about one of them— and if Sybbie knew, she wondered if he was embarrassed about her.

"I see." She brushed past him, shoulders connecting, to walk over to the cabinet where the cups were kept. She needed a glass of water, something distract her from losing her head.

"Mummy, can we go play?" Sybbie asked as Mary filled up her glass.

"Yes, darling," Mary replied, not even bothering to turn around. Tom made a noise of protest, but before he knew it the children had run off. Mary drank her water, gulping it down and hoping it magically had a cure for all her problems.

"You know they haven't finished eating yet, right?"

The glass hit the counter top. "I'll make them finish it up later." Her hands gripped the edges of the granite countertop. She didn't dare turn around.

"Is something the matter?" Tom demanded, sounding just as agitated as she felt.

"As a matter for fact, there is." Mary turned around. "I _thought_ we were supposed to be best friends."

"Mary, what are you talking about? Of course we're best friends!"

"Then why didn't you tell me about your new girlfriend?"

"Why should I? We don't have to tell each other everything!"

"I tell you everything!"

"Do you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"One word: Tony."

Mary turned around slowly. How did he know about Tony? Tom's arms were crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched. Before she could ask, he said, "I don't watch _Foxy Mabel_ but I saw a rerun a few weeks ago. They might have blurred out your face but I recognized your dress."

That's right... That red dress, which she hadn't worn since, still hanging in her closet. She felt her cheeks burn. "Well," said Mary, crossing her arms as well, "I hope you can understand why I didn't tell you about it." That night was one of the most embarrassing ones of her life, a period of time where she had abandoned logic and gave in to her emotions... and it was preserved forever in an episode of _Foxy Mabel_. Just wonderful. "It was very embarrassing and something I obviously regret."

"I'm sure it is," said Tom, but for some reason hearing him say it hurt. "But it happened— what... five years ago? And you never once thought?"

"When was I supposed to bring it up?" demanded Mary. "Over dinner in front our children?"

"It doesn't matter," said Tom, but it clearly did matter to him if he was bringing it up. "The point is that you _don't_ tell me everything."

"Well, I'm sorry," Mary said sarcastically, "I'll be sure to report every detail of my sex life to you from now on." Never mind that Mary didn't have one currently... "But for the record, I don't care what you do with yours, Tom. I understand that sometimes even friends need to keep some things private. What I object to is you seeing someone, introducing our children to her, all without even thinking of mentioning it to me!"

Tom said nothing in response, simply sulking, so Mary stalked out of the room. She was fairly confident she had won, but it was a hollow victory. She disliked arguing with Tom— little problems had cropped up over the years, sometimes resulting in disagreements, but it was rare that they actually truly argued with one another.

Mary sat on the couch, pulling out her phone. Every once in a while, she caught a glimpse of either George or Sybbie running past the sliding door as they played outside. Mary couldn't even bring herself to smile, simply stewing. She scrolled through Twitter mindlessly, trying to put it out of her mind.

The sound of footsteps broke Mary's concentration from avoiding thinking about Tom and their argument. A few seconds later, a plate with a blue edge was thrust in front of her nose. "Here's your dinner," Tom said from behind her, tense.

Mary took it from his hands, not bothering to thank him. Maybe later, if it tasted as good as it looked, and once she had cooled down...

She heard him walk away as she picked up her sandwich. The top was golden brown, crispy... absolutely perfect, in other words. However, she saw a black layer on the downward facing side. Frowning, she flipped it over, finding it charred.

"Very mature," she snarked as she stalked back into the kitchen. She held the toastie over a bin, scraping the burnt part off as best as possible... though in reality, it might have been simpler to remove the second piece of bread entirely.

"What?" He asked, still surly. He was by the door, putting his hat on— a grey hat, one she'd never seen before. If she hadn't been as angry as she was, Mary would have admired this new Tom who dressed up to go to French restaurants... it was too bad the new Tom was acting like an absolute _arse_.

"I know you did it on purpose," she said, well aware of petulant she sounded as she held up the toastie before returning to the task at hand.

"I got distracted. Someone wanted to argue with me because I'm going on a date with some girl."

" _Some girl_... how very complimentary. Original, even. Most people just call their girlfriends _darling_ or something like that."

"Look, you distracted me while I making it for you," Tom said, frustrated. "I don't have enough time to make you one that isn't burnt, so if you want another one, you can make it yourself."

"Have a wonderful time," she called out sarcastically as he slammed the door behind him. She finally peeled the second layer of bread into the bin, muttering curse words under her breath. As she washed the black flakes off her hands, she realized he hadn't even said goodbye to George and Sybbie.

* * *

Mary rewatched _Frozen_ with the children for the umpteenth time, only she didn't join in singing as she normally did. Her duet partner for _Love is an Open Door_ was gone, and it didn't feel quite right.

She may have been acting somewhat irrationally. Maybe Tom didn't need to tell her everything about his life... but surely a one night stand with Tony was in no way comparable to dating some woman... and Mary seriously doubted that any woman that Tom was going through all those lengths for was just someone he was hoping to shag.

Mary froze. God, why had she thought of _that_? Her face seemed burn, even though there was no one there to know what she had been thinking. She rearranged herself on the couch, trying to focus more on the plight of Anna and Elsa rather than her own thoughts, which were now straying to Tom and what he might be doing.

She tucked the children into bed, reading reading the fourth chapter of _The Hobbit_ aloud to them. Tom normally did this, but allowances had to be made. Her throat grew sore and when Mary peered over the edge of the book, she found both children fast asleep. Mary slipped the bookmark in between the pages, kissing them each on the forehead before leaving.

Mary laid awake in her own bed not long after, nothing seeming to calm her. She would apologize, she decided, as soon as he came home. Anything to mend this. When things weren't right with Tom, she felt ill at ease.

Another hour passed. Mary scrolled through her phone, intermittently liking photos on Instagram, like pictures of Rose and her baby and Laura Dunsany's new house, finding herself curiously disinterested. He'd be home any minute now... She was sure of it.

But then it was one in the morning, and Tom still wasn't home. Mary felt ill as she tried to do mental gymnastics to figure out just why he wasn't home. _Maybe his car broke down,_ she told herself, but knew that he would have the means to repair most issues himself or would at least call her to pick him up for something more serious. _He's mad at you,_ she reminded herself. Still... either Mama or Papa would pick him up this late at night. That might be it... after all, he wouldn't want her to rouse the children just to pick him up or to leave them alone...

Then it was two in the morning and Mary was almost certain it wasn't car trouble. She rolled over on her side, mind unable to avoid the obvious reason any longer. _You of all people have no reason to be upset,_ she thought, reminded of Tony once more. She let out a sigh. God, why hadn't she just told him about it? It was embarrassing, certainly, and far from her finest moment, but it was hardly something he would judge her for.

But, Mary reminded herself, they didn't discuss that sort of thing with each other. Bringing it up would have only been awkward, not only abnormal. The anger in her flare yet again as she rolled into her back, staring up at the ceiling. Besides— no matter how much he was pretending it was similar, it was two completely different scenarios. It was hardly as if Mary had introduced George and Sybbie to Tony before she seduced him...

Mary began wondering who this Lucy Smith woman was and why Tom had kept her secret for so long. How had he even met her? Sybbie said something about meeting her at a park but when had Tom found the time to actually go on dates with her without Mary's knowledge?

It was closer to three in the morning when Mary began looking Lucy Smith up on Facebook... only to belatedly realize there were a lot of Lucy Smiths in the world and she would sooner find a needle in a haystack than the woman Tom was with.

Sighing, Mary decided to not pursue her curiosity any further. She simply sent a single text to Tom.

_MARY: Please let me know that you are alright._

With that, she tried to get some sleep.

* * *

_January 23, 2020_

Mary heard the front door close sometime around five thirty. She sat up in bed, her tired brain mentally piecing things together as she heard Tom's footsteps go up the stairs then down again. He was likely getting ready to shower before work...

Mary dressed for the morning, hearing the shower running in the bathroom once she came downstairs. Tom was singing to himself, the sound muffled by the door. Clearly he'd enjoyed himself. It sounded like some Arctic Monkeys song... and it bothered her. He had never texted her back, never bothered to let her know he wasn't overturned in a ditch somewhere...

So when Mary realized he had prepared a full pot of coffee, she felt no remorse when she drank a full cup. Then a second. She kept incrementally refilling it to give herself a full cup after each swig, knowing she would likely regret it but still seething and desperately in need of caffeine, even though she knew her bladder would pay dearly for it. There was barely enough for half a cup by the time Tom emerged from the bathroom.

"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning," replied Tom, with some caution, looking at her warily as if she were a lion ready to strike.

 _You don't have to say anything,_ Mary told herself. _You can just be pleasant and polite._.. But being nice wasn't what she was known for. "Oh, good. I thought maybe I was going to receive the silent treatment again."

Tom gave her a strange look before seeming to realize what she was referring to. At once the irritated Tom from last night was back. "I thought you didn't want any reports on my sex life," he sneered.

Mary flinched, feeling very much as if she had run into a brick wall. It was one thing to suspect, but it was another to have it confirmed. She ignored that twisting feeling of nausea before saying, "Well, I suppose I won't bother asking after you next time, will I? I'll just let myself worry about you being dead in a ditch somewhere."

Tom immediately looked guilty, but unlike most times, Mary didn't feel pleased about scoring a hit. "I was sleeping," he muttered. "I didn't see your message until after I woke up."

"So you had no time to let me know you were alright anytime between the time you woke up, got in your car, drove back here—" Tom winced, now clearly realizing she had a full timeline of the events, "— and got in the shower to get ready for work?"

He was silent before saying, "No, not really." He shuffled out in the kitchen as Mary took another healthy swig of coffee. Her body felt awake, but her mind was still frazzled and disoriented. She was only mildly satisfied when she heard Tom call out, "Thanks for drinking my coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome!" She practically singsonged, injecting as much cheer into her voice as possible, but it came out more sarcastic. She couldn't even fake being a morning person... especially not on three hours of sleep.

She heard Tom muttering curse words under his breath in the kitchen, pleased to pretend nothing was wrong. She stared out the window, gazing out at the dusting of snow across the grass. The scene was so idyllic, something calm and peaceful... and yet Mary felt as if she were at war. She drank more of her coffee, dismayed to realize she was already close to the bottom.

When the children came downstairs, they avoided speaking to another as much as possible, simply focusing on the children and averting eye contact with one another. Mary wondered if either of them knew anything was wrong, but she couldn't help but marvel that, even now, her and Tom were of the same mind that the children weren't to know anything was amiss.

Thomas certainly did, telling Mary that she looked as if she had been up all night. When she affirmed that was the case, he asked why. She hesitated before saying, "I don't know. I think maybe I had too much caffeine yesterday." She drank another sip of the coffee Thomas had brought her, knowing she had already consumed far too much today.

During her lunch break, Tom had the audacity to send her a text asking her to pick up some milk. Mary replied,

_MARY: I'm already the one picking up George and Sybbie up from school and I'm operating on three hours of sleep. If you want milk, pick it up yourself_

Two minutes later, her phone buzzed.

_TOM: Its not my fault you were up all night_

It _was_ his fault, Mary maintained, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

_MARY: Being a jerk isn't exactly encouraging me to do any favors for you_

_TOM: Calling me names isn't going to stop us from being out of milk. If you don't want to buy it for me, buy it for George and Sybbie. They need the calcium_

_MARY: I know for a fact we have cheese at home. They'll survive a day or two without milk. Once again if you want milk, buy it yourself_

Lunch break was over but Mary's phone buzzed again. She reached for her phone.

_TOM: I already apologized for not texting you back_

_MARY: You absolutely did not. You never once said you were sorry. At all_

_TOM: Im sorry. I should have texted you. I didn't mean to make you worry._

Mary might have accepted the apology if he hadn't then added,

_TOM: Now will you please buy the milk_

_MARY: No_

"D'you have a boyfriend now or something?" Thomas's voice made her jump.

"No," Mary said coldly. "I most certainly do not."

"You sound a touch defensive," he teased, swiveling around with a smirk. Mary glared at him. "Looking like you've been up all night, answering your phone when you're supposed to be working... Who's the mystery man?"

"Tom," shot back Mary, delighting in his horrified expression. Good... that would teach him about prying and making baseless presumptions. "We're arguing over who should buy the milk."

Thomas blinked. Then he smirked again. "Ah... so I take it the honeymoon stage of your friendship has run its course?" Mary resisted rolling her eyes. He'd only been married a year and he seemed to think he was the expert on marriage and relationships. "I don't know how you stand your living arrangement, to be honest. It's like you have all the tedious parts about marriage without all the good bits."

That remark seemed to open up a floodgate. It was obviously the lack of sleep, but now that he said it, she couldn't help but suddenly envision Tom, hair a mess and shirtless... which was not what she should be imagining ever, let alone when she was in midst of an argument with him... and especially not when he had a girlfriend. Her irritation was so great it caused her to snap, "Don't you have work to do?"

Thomas arched a eyebrow. "I do... and so do you, but you're wasting all your time replying to Branson." Speak of the devil, Mary's phone vibrated yet again. Thomas swiveled back, returning to his laptop as Mary scowled.

_TOM: Why are you being like this?_

_MARY: Why are you?_

_MARY: Now please stop texting me. I'm working._

* * *

_January 25, 2020_

It was hell. Pure, utter hell. Mary woke up, feeling lower than low. Her and Tom had yet to come to a standstill— the passive aggressive texts had stopped yesterday, but they continued ignoring one another to the best of their abilities without arousing suspicion from the children.

Mary trudged down the stairs, finding Tom already at the table. He was looking at his laptop, but glanced up when he heard her. For a moment, she dared to hope that this was the moment— the moment they would make up... Only for her to be disappointed when he hurriedly dropped his gaze back down a moment later.

She sighed, taking a seat in across from him. The children were watching something on TV so she began scrolling through her various social media apps, only looking away when the children came over to talk to her and Tom during commercial breaks. It wasn't until their show concluded and George and Sybbie decided to go upstairs to play that Mary felt it was safe to speak.

"I didn't tell you about Tony because I was embarrassed," she began, staring down at the table. She knew Tom's attention was piqued because his fingers had stopped typing. "Charles has just dumped me and I— I don't know what came over me."

Tom still wasn't saying anything but Mary knew he was listening. It's why she continued on, "It's just... I knew he was in London. That's why I stayed the extra night. To be with Tony. And then... Well, I'll put it this way, my time spent with him was an underwhelming experience."

At this, Tom actually laughed. He tried to disguise it as a cough but Mary saw him smirking. Relieved, she carried on, "So I left. I probably would have been home sooner, but then I bumped into Mabel and her camera crew... and I felt sorry for her. So I agreed to be in her show, on the stipulation that no one would ever know it was me. Obviously it didn't work out as I intended it to." Mary pushed her shoulders back. "I didn't tell you about it because I was worried you would judge me... and because Charles said we relied on each other too much. I didn't want to prove him right by turning around and telling you everything. It wasn't because I didn't trust you."

"I wouldn't have judged you," Tom said without any hesitation. For the first time that morning, their eyes met. "And I don't. For any of it. I'm not a saint myself... the only difference between you and I is that I've never appeared on a reality television show because of it." He offered her a smile.

"I know," said Mary, now truly convinced of it. "But I judge myself for it."

"You shouldn't," Tom told her. "We all have our moments when we don't think things through. It doesn't make us bad... and if you've learned from it at all, then it served it purpose."

Mary couldn't help but smile— not because he had helped ease her conscience but because it was such a Tom thing to say. Though she had already known for days just how much she had missed him, it was only now she felt she could truly appreciate him and his words of wisdom.

"You're the only person who knows about it," said Mary, glancing down at the table. "That I know of, that is. I mean, Mabel and Tony and the people who work for her know but I haven't told anyone... not even Anna."

Tom nodded. "I wasn't ever going to tell anyone. It's just— Well, when I told you about Edna and everything... It only seemed like I was the one trusting you but you didn't trust me at all." He glanced down at the table. "But I shouldn't have acted as I did. That was very wrong of me."

"I can't say I was much better," said Mary with a sigh, thinking of her own petulance. "And I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"I know that now."

For the sake of full transparency, Mary inhaled deeply before saying, "I might as well tell you that I've another big secret that I've scarcely told anyone... but I'm not going to tell it to you now. Maybe not ever. And it isn't because you can't be trusted... it's because I don't like talking about it."

Tom nodded. "That's alright." He paused before saying, "It's fine, Mary. Really. I don't want you to feel... Well, you don't need to tell me everything. Not if you don't want to. But I certainly won't ever judge you for anything." He paused before adding, "Unless you've murdered someone. Then I might."

Mary smirked. "So you won't help me hide the body?"

"I think you'd have better luck going to Thomas for something like that," Tom said, now grinning as well.

Mary shook her head. "No... if I had to pick anyone in my life for that, it would be Anna."

Tom chuckled and Mary was relieved to know things were alright again between them.

* * *

Lucy, she learned, was a librarian. He had met her when he took George and Sybbie to the park one afternoon as she took her new puppy for a walk. They had started talking and decided to go out. On their first date, he learned that, remarkably, she had sat behind Sybil in an English course in university. She had even known about Sybil's passing because she had seen it from a friend of a friend online.

Tom was clearly mad about her. He spoke of her with a fondness she had scarcely observed since Sybil's death. Judging by his shy smiles and embarrassed admissions about how much he enjoyed Lucy's company, it was clear he was enamored by her.

Mary didn't know how to feel about it. She wanted Tom to be happy, of course, but she couldn't help but think of Sarah and the bitter taste that whole affair had left in her mouth. Was Lucy really as wonderful as Tom claimed she was or would Mary find herself with another adversary?

The second concern was the ones Granny had raised. It was hopelessly naïve, she realized now, to assumed that Tom really would remain single forever. How would Lucy feel about Sybbie calling her _Mummy?_ She asked Tom about it, who replied, "She understands. She heard George at the park and... well, I explained things. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replied, relieved there was a sense of transparency, yet she still remained on edge... though why, she couldn't possibly begin to put into words. Deciding to ignore that, she quickly changed the topic. "So," she said, folding her hands and plastering a smile on her face, "When do I get to meet her?"

Tom smiled, looking relieved. "Well... we've planned a date on Wednesday. I could ask her to swing by here first and I could introduce you."

"That sounds marvelous," said Mary... though truth be told, she knew she wasn't as enthused about this as she ought to be.

* * *

_January 29 , 2020_

Mary met Lucy and her dog Milo at the same time when she arrived home from the grocery store. Tom had asked if it was alright if Lucy brought him into the house and Mary had agreed without much thought... but she was still taken by surprised when a liver springer spaniel puppy jumped on her the moment she stepped through the door.

"Milo, get down!" Lucy exclaimed, running into the kitchen. Mary saw immediately very pretty, with brown hair that reached her shoulders and bright smile. She met Mary's eye and smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry— I'm still training him." She stepped forward, one hand pulling the excited puppy away from Mary and another reached out. "I'm Lucy, by the way."

"Mary," she introduced herself, disarmed by the woman in front of her. It wasn't as if her appearance wasn't expected... It was just that a part of Mary had never actually believed she would meet this her.

"Sorry about Milo."

"That's quite alright," said Mary, having regained some of her composure by now. She straightened her shoulders. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name." She might have said that it was nice to finally meet her but Mary truly couldn't determined if this was a pleasant interaction or not.

Lucy smiled, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Same here! I feel like I know you already— Tom thinks the world of you."

It was strange but Mary felt her heart speed up. "Well, the feeling's mutual," she found herself saying. "Speaking of him, where's he?"

"Bathroom," said Lucy, smiling. Her dog had scampered off, presumably to play with George and Sybbie in the other room. She could hear their delighted squeals and giggles from the kitchen. "We won't be in your hair too much longer— I just knew the kids would want to see him again. Thank you for letting him in, by the way," Lucy added.

"It's no problem," Mary said, walking to the dining room table. Lucy followed her. "I'm used to dealing with puppies and these two keep begging me for one... at some point, I suspect we'll give in."

Lucy smiled. "They're cute but they are a handful. Puppies, I mean," she said hastily when she realized it could be interpreted as referencing the children.

"Kids can be, too," Mary said, giving her a wry smile.

Tom stepped out of the bathroom just then. "I see you've already met. Sorry I wasn't here to introduce you."

"That's alright," Mary said, crossing her legs, wondering why it seemed Tom always happened to be out of the room when she met his girlfriend. Thankfully, this time around, the girlfriend in question was rather pleasant... as well as quite nice.

The conversation continued for a while longer until Tom checked the time and realized they ought to head out. "See you later," she called out, mainly to Tom... but something told her Lucy would be back as well.

"Bye, Mary!" Lucy beamed. "It was so nice to meet you!"

Mary waved back, smiling, ill at ease. She couldn't quite bring herself to repay the compliment... but it was impossible to dislike her. Unlike Sarah, who had almost gone out of her way to drive Mary insane, Lucy had been... well, _nice_. She didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, she wasn't jealous of Mary's bond with Tom, and she clearly adored the children. In fact, if anything was driving Mary insane, it was the fact that she seemed to possess no glaring faults.

Subconsciously, she couldn't help but compare herself to this woman, as silly as it was. There was no logical reason for it... but then again, logic hadn't been playing a part in her thinking for over a month now.

As Mary gathered the children in the car to go to Downton for dinner, she abruptly realized who Lucy reminded her of: Lavinia Swire. As much as she had loved Matthew, as much as it had killed him to watch him be happy with someone who wasn't her, Mary could never ever bring herself to resent his new girlfriend. For a time, they had even been friends...

 _Don't be stupid,_ Mary chastised herself, helping George buckle his seatbelt after he managed to tangle it up in his car seat. _You don't love Tom— not like that, at least. You've just learned Tom is a good kisser and have started to appreciate that he's a handsome man. It's nothing more than that._ Then, more forcefully, _It can't be._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your wonderful comments last week! I appreciate them more than you can even know!
> 
> There's a part of this chapter that is a little steamier than normal, but not explicit. If you'd rather not read it, it's the italicized part at the end of the chapter!
> 
> Last but not least, I have midterms this week and will need to take a week off of updating to devote my time to that. Thank you for understanding!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Fourteen**

_February 7, 2020_

It was illogical but Mary found herself disliking the time Tom and Lucy spent together. She knew it was silly to complain or find fault in it— after all, it wasn't as if she hadn't spent plenty of time with Henry during the course of their relationship. Nevertheless, spending several nights a week alone (with the exception of the children, that is) grated on her nerves. She cursed the fact that Thomas and Anna were both married, as it meant she didn't really have another single friend to invite over anymore on those lonely nights.

It wasn't that she disliked Lucy or questioned Tom's happiness. In fact, he seemed in higher spirits than he had for ages. On the evenings they spent together, Tom would talk about Lucy often— in fact, Mary found she knew her quite well by now, despite having only met her a handful of times. In some ways, it was endearing and rather sweet to see Tom so excited about someone... but Mary mostly found it annoyed her, which she knew was unfair. _How many evenings did he spend listening to you going on and on about Henry?_ Mary reminded herself as she sulked.

But there was a slight difference; Tom and Henry had been friends. Mary liked Lucy and she was sure the feeling was mutual, but she wouldn't go so far as to call her a friend. Lucy had joined them a couple days ago after a date for a glass of wine, but it wasn't the same.

Mary sighed, tossing in her bed. She checked the time. 12:32. Tom wasn't home yet... nor was he like to be.

A few days prior, she had made the mistake of asking Tom if things were moving too fast with Lucy. It had nearly started another row (which hadn't been Mary's intention in the slightest), and she hadn't mentioned it since. Still, Mary felt as if she had whiplash. How was he so certain he truly cared about this woman? He barely knew her!

Then again, not everyone was nearly as contrary or as incremental as herself. With Matthew, Mary had been utterly shocked when she realized he was no longer just the annoying boy who sat in front of her in class or her friend, but someone she was madly in love with... but of course, nearly everyone else had seen it. She remembered confessing it to Anna, prepared for a surprised reaction, only for her to grin and say, " _Well, it took you long enough!"_

So Mary decided to trust Tom. Surely he understood his life and relationship far better than her... and it wasn't her business to be worrying about until he decided to involve her in it.

Still, she couldn't help but worry about the future. If things were this serious so soon, maybe Tom wouldn't waste any time. Perhaps he would be convinced of his certainty and proposing and then he would move in with Lucy... and then it would just be her and George again, alone. And then Mary would have to explain to George why another parental figure was leaving his life and accepting the fact that unlike America, Tom wouldn't be returning home. Maybe Granny had been right... maybe it was a bad idea, letting George and Sybbie think of them as a parental unit.

Worrying would do her no good, though. She ought to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.

She didn't follow through on that intention until after two in the morning.

—

_February 16, 2020_

Mary resumed her place on the couch, drinking a glass of wine. She could hear fragments of a whispered conversation near the front door. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, shoulders tensed. Soon, she heard the front door open then close, and Tom had returned to the living room.

"You like her, don't you?"

Mary remembered when he asked her the same thing of Sarah Bunting. "Of course I do," said Mary, giving him a placid smile. "What's not to like?"

Tom shrugged. "You just seems rather tense this evening. That's all."

Mary didn't look at him, merely leaning forward so she could fill her glass with more wine. She wasn't about to admit to him that she had been rather tense all evening. Every time they had reached out to touch hands, Mary found herself irritated. As much as she had no real desire for a relationship at present, it was hard watching couples being happy. "Sorry," she finally said. "The stress from work must be getting to me."

"Stress?" Tom frowned, lowering himself beside her. "I hope everything's alright."

Mary nodded. "Just— well, this coronavirus thing. Thomas mentioned today that if we start getting more cases, we might have to shut Downton down."

Tom nodded slowly. "There's only a handful of cases right now. As long as it's contained you should be in the clear."

Mary sighed. "I know. But you can't help but think of worst case scenarios when it comes to this sort of thing. And we were counting on using the money this year to repair the roof..."

"I'm sure it will be alright."

Mary smiled, placated for now.

* * *

_February 20, 2020_

Mary was surprised to find Tom at home when she returned with the children. "What are you doing here?" She asked him when she entered the living room, finding him watching a game on the telly. "Shouldn't you be out with Lucy?"

Tom turned around slowly. He seemed downcast, shoulders heavy. "We aren't together anymore."

Mary at once felt like an idiot. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry!"

He shook his head. "It's fine. It's just— Well, with this virus..." He trailed off, not needing to say anything more. Mary understood at once. It was all anyone could talk about anymore. Things were growing uncertain and Mary's own opinions seemed to change daily with the influx of information. "Her mother's not doing the greatest. She's got a health condition... and if things get bad, she wants to limit exposure so she can take care of her. And it's really too soon for us to live together..."

Mary balked at the idea of him moving in with a woman he had only truly just met. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out," she said, with more sincerity than she realized she was capable of. In spite of everything, she couldn't dislike Lucy. George and Sybbie adored her, she was incredibly kind, and she genuinely seemed to make Tom happy.

Tom offered her a smile. "Thanks." He looked down at his lap. "Who knows... Maybe once things calm down, we can start things back up again. But for now..."

Mary ignored her own annoyance at the idea, reminding herself that Tom deserved to be happy, regardless of how convenient it was to her. "How about we watch a movie tonight? Your choice. I promise not to complain."

Tom managed to grin. She was fully preparing him to suggest one of his war movies, the sorts of things that bored Mary to tears, but instead he said, "What about _Mean Girls_? I could use a laugh... and it reminds me of Sybil."

Mary smiled. "Very well. _Mean Girls_ it is."

* * *

_February 29, 2020_

With each day that passed, their anxieties about the virus steadily increased. This was, naturally, the time when Sybbie and George decided to drop a bombshell on them. "We don't want to share a room anymore," Sybbie announced to them as they cleared up after lunch.

Tom blinked, nearly dropping the stack of dishes in his hands. "What's brought this on?"

"We're just tired of having to share _everything_ ," George said, with only a slight whine in his voice. "Sometimes I just want to be in my room and not have anyone in there!"

"And nobody else in my class has to share a room with their brother," Sybbie added, clearly trying to remain level headed about it. She had clearly armed herself with facts. "And I don't always want George playing with my toys, either."

Mary had a sinking feeling. They always knew this day would come, the day when Sybbie and George would need some time apart from one another, but did it have to come now, of all times? "We understand," Mary began, "Really, we do. But we only have three bedrooms. There isn't enough for all of us right now."

"Why can't one of us sleep in Daddy's room?" George asked.

"Because I'm sleeping there, George. And I thought you wanted to be able to have some time alone," Tom pointed out.

"Why can't _you two_ share a room?" George asked, exasperated. "We've has to share a room for years! How come you two don't have to share?"

"Because we're adults," Mary said sensibly, not quite ready to explain exactly why such a suggestion was inappropriate. She already felt her cheeks heating up at the thought.

"But everyone at school's parents sleeps in the same bedroom!" Sybbie pointed out. "Unless they're divorced or something."

"Not everyone's family is like ours," Mary said, growing frustrated with them both. Why must they be so argumentative? Surely they realized that their situation was uniquely different from everyone else's?

"Why can't we just be normal?" George demanded, sounding exactly like her.

Before Mary could say anything else, Tom jumped in, "Why don't the two of you go outside while we discuss this?"

George and Sybbie exchanged a look— what it was, Mary couldn't decipher— before wearily trodding over to the door. "And wear your coats!" She called after them, well aware they might think she was being mean, but she didn't care.

Tom ran his hand through his hair. "God, what're we going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Mary, face in her hands while looking straight ahead. "Can't we just make them stay put?"

"We could," Tom acknowledged. "But Sybbie is getting a bit old to continue staying with George... and God knows how long we'll have to stay in this house once the government finally shuts things down. Do we really want to have two angry children?"

"What other options do we have?" Mary asked. _Aside from sharing a bed, that is,_ she thought, but she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't. It was a mad...

Tom hesitated. His lips parted before saying, "I could sleep on the couch until we hire someone to build the addition." He paused. "Maybe we could even build it ourselves..."

Mary shook her head. "Absolutely not. To _both_ of those suggestions." She knew herself well enough to know that she would accidentally send one of them to hospital if she were given power tools... not to mention they were easily two of the least qualified people to contemplate such an endeavor. "I've fallen asleep on this couch enough times to know it isn't fit for spending more than one night on at a time." She thought of all the twinges in her neck. "It's not fair to force you out. We could... take turns. One of us spends a night out here... the other in my bed."

Tom gaped. "Mary, I can't sleep in your bed."

Mary wondered if maybe his hesitance stemmed from that ill-advised kiss and she cursed herself for that stupid, impulsive decision. "Well, I won't let you kill your spine by sleeping out here night after night. We aren't young as we once were, Tom."

He lets out a dry laugh. "Thanks, Mary."

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "You sleeping out here every night just isn't a viable option."

Tom exhaled through his nose before saying, "Fine. Let's... let's try it."

* * *

_March 1, 2020_

Tom's things were moved into Mary's room over the weekend. "This feels strange," he said aloud, as she carried a tote full of his clothes into her room.

"It'll only be for a while," she reminded him. "Until we can build the addition."

Tom hesitated. "I suppose you're right." He eyed her king sized bed the way a hero in a fairytale looked upon a dragon.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It won't bite you."

"I know... but this doesn't feel quite right."

It really didn't, but she didn't say it. It was an odd idea, Tom sleeping in her bed, especially when she wouldn't be there. Nevertheless, they'd made the decision now; they couldn't turn back, not unless they want to face a mutiny from George and Sybbie, who were already enthusiastically carrying Sybbie's toys into what was once Tom's room.

Soon, Mary found herself placing all of Tom's toiletries in her bathroom, unused to all the space being taken up now. It had been a long time since she had shared this space with anyone, and in that time, she had grown used to having things done a certain way. _It won't be forever,_ she reminded herself, placing his bar of soap and shampoo in the shower. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to know you aren't one of those men who uses the three in one shampoo, conditioner and body wash," she told him, shuddering theatrically.

"Well, I thought about it many times, but I was afraid you'd evict me if I brought the stuff into the house," Tom teased, setting his razor on her counter. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Are you sure you are okay with this?"

"Of course," replied Mary, though she wasn't certain how honest she was being. She valued having a place to retreat to when the world became too much, and now it wouldn't be hers anymore. Still, she knew it was much worse for Tom, who wouldn't have that sort of space again until they built on to the house. She supposed if she had to share it with anyone, it would be her best friend. "We can handle it."

* * *

_March 6, 2020_

Mary felt as though she had been run over by a bus. Her neck ached— it wasn't just a twinge, it was a full on ache— and her lower back protested with each step she took down the stairs.

She only dreaded to know how Tom felt.

When she found him at the kitchen table, coffee already in hand (and no steam rising from the cup), she knew what he was about to say. "We can't keep doing this."

"No," she agreed. "We can't."

The solution was staring them in the face yet Mary was too much of a coward to say it. But Sybbie and George had been living in harmony, happier than ever to have their own rooms. Sybbie had even begun decorating Tom's old room with pictures she drew— the one she'd drawn of the four of them in kindergarten had joined her renditions of a unicorn and Anna and Elsa from _Frozen_.

Tom was the one who finally came out with it. "Look— we're mature adults, aren't we? Surely we can— we could handle it. For a month or so." He gulped down his coffee before saying, "We wouldn't let it ruin things."

Mary nodded. For heaven's sake... they had kissed one another and had still remained friends... Surely they could handle this? "Very well. I don't see what other choice we have." It wouldn't be any different from the nights they had spent on the couch together, really... and with any luck, she would discover some disgusting or off putting habit of Tom's that would completely obliterate any whiffs of attraction.

"Thank God that's settled," Tom said, rising to his feet to pour himself another cup. "Now all we have to do is check if the chiropractor's are open."

* * *

They put off going to bed as long as possible. They played Trivial Pursuit (Monopoly was off limits after Sybbie had flipped the board last time) with the children until they went to bed, then poured themselves some wine so they could watch TV for another hour or so. When it was almost midnight and the two of them realized they would spend another night on the damnable couch if they didn't move soon, Tom and Mary rose to their feet, heading to her— _their_ — bedroom.

"I can change in the bathroom," Tom offered, gathering his pajamas— a white tee shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

Mary nodded. "Okay. Sounds good." She was in the midst of rummaging through her pajama drawer for something decent. She finally procured a matching set of red satin pajamas, slipping them on fluidly. She debated on whether or not to leave her bra on or not before sighing and keeping it. This was going to be awkward enough... she didn't want to make things with Tom worse, even if she would be paying for it.

"I'm decent," Tom called out from behind the bathroom door as she untied her hair from its ponytail. "If you're ready to brush your teeth."

Mary opened the door, trudging in. Tom's was already wetting his brush. He stepped aside slightly, allowing her to reach for hers. He offered her the tube of toothpaste, before she shook her head and reached for hers. They crowded over the sink, Mary's electric toothbrush buzzing as Tom spat the foamy toothpaste out. "I'll just, uh, get settled in," he told her after drying his mouth. "Uh, which side do you sleep on?"

"Left," Mary said, though it came out more like " _Leff_." It had been the side of the bed Matthew had slept on, but after he passed, she always felt closer to him being on that side.

"Okay. Good." Tom shuffled out.

Mary finished brushing her teeth, flossed, and washed her face before finally trudging out of the bathroom. _It'll be fine,_ she told herself, though she wasn't confident it would be. She had actually _slept_ in the same bed with a man in a long while... come to think of it, the last time such a thing had occurred was when Mama has put her and Charles in the same room on New Year's Eve. Goodness, had it been that long?

The lights were still on and Tom was on his phone. "Do you mind if I turn the lights out now?" Mary asked.

"No, go ahead." She flipped the light switch. All that was left was the glow from his phone. Mary walked toward the bed, resigned to their fate, before climbing in. She reached for her own phone and her AirPods. Popping them in, she started her sleep playlist with calming piano music before closing her eyes.

The mattress was large enough that they didn't touch, but Mary remained acutely aware of his presence, even though she had essentially drowned him out and her eyes were closed. She felt him each time he shifted, when he would laugh at something, the warmth radiating from him under their shared covers.

Still, at a certain point, she dozed off. When she came to, about forty minutes later, to turn off her music and remove the AirPods from her ears, Tom was asleep. He was rolled over on his side, facing her. Mary tried to stop herself from smiling, even though nobody was there to judge her, before laying back down.

* * *

_March 7, 2020_

Mary awoke the following morning to the sun on her face and an arm wrapped around her waist. Another's deep breathing filled her ears, a leg wedged between hers, and something against her backside. It wasn't something she was unaccustomed to, only if hadn't happened in so long... Mary let herself relax.

That is, until she remembered who it was.

Her eyelids flew open, muscles tensing. Her gaze fell down to her stomach, where Tom's hand rested.

 _These things happen,_ she reminded herself. _It's just biological._

"Tom," she said, feeling silly saying his name when she was facing the wall. "Tom!" She said louder.

She felt him stir. "Mary?" He murmured in her ear.

"Yes. Can you let me out? I'm afraid I'm trapped." She tried to phrase it lightly, desperately not wanting to make the situation uncomfortable.

Tom let go of her as if she were on fire. "Sorry!" He gasped, rolling away as she hopped out of bed.

"It's alright. No harm done," she assured him, readjusting her top. It had ridden up in the night. "I just thought I would make us some breakfast." She turned back to the bed, finding Tom red faced and looking embarrassed.

"Erm, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks."

Mary left the bedroom as quickly as possible and tried not to let it affect her. Honestly. She tried to think of anything else— she even Googled " _how to fry bacon_ " and followed the instructions to the best of her ability, just to take her mind off it. But she kept thinking about it—

She thought he would follow her down in a few minutes to talk about it. She readied herself for what was almost certainly going to be an awkward conversation, just like the one that had happened after they'd kissed. When he didn't appear in five minutes, Mary worried. Was he angry? Or just to embarrassed? Or was he... taking care of things?

The bacon ended up being crispier than she intended after Mary followed _that_ avenue of thinking longer than she should have, but Sybbie, who had been the first one down to join her, acted as if it was the best thing in the world. "You're getting really good, Mum!" She proclaimed.

That was new... but Mary didn't mind. "Thank you, darling," said Mary, setting the pan on the table, bestowing her with a smile.

"Can I help with the eggs?"

"Sure," Mary said, showing her how to crack them. Though she had mastered scrambled eggs ages ago, she didn't quite trust making them while trying out a new endeavor at the same time.

"Where's Daddy?" Sybbie asked a few minutes later.

Mary didn't know how to answer. She was trying not to think about what Tom might be doing... "He's still in bed. Resting."

Sybbie nodded. "How did you get so good at making scrambled eggs?"

"George's father taught me," she told her.

"Uncle Matthew?"

Mary smiled. "That's right. Uncle Matthew." She turned to Sybbie. "You used to love it when he would play peek-a-boo with you. I know you were too young to remember him, but he adored you."

Sybbie smiled sadly before saying, "I wish I could remember him. And my mother."

Mary stopped whisking. "I wish you could, too." It broke her heart when she thought too deeply of how Matthew would never give George a piggy back ride or how Sybil would never be able to help her daughter with science projects. Sybil could never become George's favorite aunt and Matthew could never carry Sybbie around on his shoulders again. "But at least you have your Dad and I. I hope we're adequate enough substitutes."

Sybbie didn't say anything, just studying Mary as she continued whisking.

Tom and George arrived with in a few minutes of each other, and the four of them are breakfast. Astonishingly, Tom has decided to act as if nothing had happened (unusual for him— he was always one for the hard conversations... though maybe calling it that was a little on the nose) and Mary was perfectly content carrying on the same way... though she suspected the reason he hadn't sat down and had it out with her was because of the children. The morning carried on as normal, Tom driving the children to school and leaving Mary alone to her thoughts.

Mary didn't breathe a word of it when she reached the office. She was well aware the idea of two adults sharing a bed when they weren't even a couple was a bizarre one, to say the very least. Thomas wouldn't understand; he'd definitely judge her, and then he would go home and tell Jimmy so that he could judge her, too. No— no one was to know.

"You look well rested," commented Thomas, smirking when he sat down at his desk with Starbucks. "I take it was your turn to sleep in the bed last night?"

"Yes," said Mary, wishing she hadn't told him about their new sleeping arrangements... or, rather, the olde new sleeping arrangements. It had only come up because Mary, foolishly indulging Thomas's interest in the adventures of Sybbie and George, had let it slip they were in separate rooms. Thomas has managed to wriggle the truth out of her in that infuriating manner of his, playing innocent when he asked her to recount just how many bedrooms were in Crawley House.

"But I thought you had it the night before last."

"Tom let me have it again," said Mary, who figured she wasn't really lying... not technically.

"Are you sure you didn't bully him into it?"

"Tom's a gentleman... which is something you wouldn't know about," snarked Mary, a little irritated by his constant questions.

Thomas clutched his chest theatrically. "You wound me, milady!"

Mary rolled her eyes but smirked. "Check in and compare prices with contractors for me this afternoon, will you?" she asked, figuring the sooner she could get this ball rolling, the better.

"I'll try... but who knows how long they'll be open for business? You don't want half the wall off in your living room for a month, do you? Especially now that it's your bedroom part time."

"I don't want Tom killing his back, either," said Mary. _Or to wake up with him pressed against me._

Mary stopped typing. It hadn't actually been... that bad. A little awkward, yes. She was sure it would be even awkward later, once they were alone... but the actual sensation of it had been familiar in a way. And with his arm around her... well, that was quite nice.

"I take it by your silence I should hold off on making enquiries?"

Mary's vision refocused, staring at a paragraph from her email. She nodded. "We'll hold off."

* * *

Mary was certain Tom would have it out with her once they were alone— some long, uncomfortable conversation about how they were best friends, how it was a biological function, how things would stay platonic, etcetera, etcetera...

But he never did. Not even after George and Sybbie were sent up to bed, not when they were alone on the couch, watching some show Tom liked. Mary couldn't follow the plot and didn't even bother asking what they were watching, too engrossed with her thoughts about their morning and the imminent conversation that would follow. It wasn't until they went up to bed that Tom acknowledged it. "I'm sorry. About this morning." He wasn't looking at her, rifling through his drawers that were designated as his for a pair of pajamas.

"It's alright. I— I know you didn't mean anything by it." Mary cheeks felt warm. Though she was fairly confident in her abilities to ensnare most of the male population, she was also certain Tom was immune to her charms. It had nothing to do with her.

They conducted the same routine again, still with some residual awkwardness, but with more certainty this time around. No questions were asked, Mary was the first one in bed, mindlessly scrolling Instagram and already noting the lack of vacation photos as Tom climbed into the opposite side of the bed. "Goodnight, then," she said, voice higher pitched than normal.

"Goodnight," Tom replied, his voice now gruffer.

Mary popped in her AirPods, wondering if tomorrow would be any better or not.

* * *

_March 12, 2020_

There was not yet any signs from the government that estates like Downton would need to shut down, but Mary felt it was the right choice. Tours were canceled, which lead to a massive outpour of hateful emails that Thomas had to reply to with cheerful politeness. "A lot of the Americans are absolutely enraged," he said. "We've ruined their holidays."

"I'd rather their holidays be ruined than their lives. The state of their healthcare system is atrocious," said Mary, uncaring. They had received full refunds if they had booked ahead and she wasn't going to risk anyone's lives.

Plans were made to maintain the Downton experience online. Mary planned on starting a blog for the website about growing up at Downton and had even considered a virtual tour with narration. Thomas felt it was a good idea but she was going to check it over with Mama and Papa.

"Is today our last day in the office, then?" asked Thomas. "Now that everything's online?"

"I suppose so," said Mary. "You and I would probably be safe enough with just us two... but who knows anymore?" Nothing seemed certain these days. "I'm sure we can find ways of communicating with each other from home anyway."

She didn't miss the way he grinned... he was likely looking forward to spending his days with Jimmy, who had already started working from home now. Mary had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, reminding herself that just because she was alone didn't mean others had to be.

Mama and Papa were looking forward to have free range of the house again, but Papa understandably had concerns about bringing in enough money. Mary informed him of her plans before heading back home.

* * *

Her first few days of solitude were interesting. She usually woke when Tom's alarm went off, but was easily able to fall asleep once he hit snooze... until it went off again. And again.

Going back to sleep was harder once Tom finally climbed out of bed, the heat leaving once he lifted up their shared covers. This was usually met by a groan from Mary, muffled by her pillow, and answered by a chuckle from Tom.

Tom's daily routine was a soundtrack, his shower the song that would lull her back to sleep after everything else. The only interruption to her sound sleep was when the children would rush up before they left for school, saying goodbye and giving her kisses farewell.

After a while, Mary would crawl out of bed, walking downstairs and preparing herself a cup of coffee and helping herself to a bowl of cereal or whatever left overs Tom had saved for her. She would stand by the window, wrapped up in a cardigan, before sitting down and sifting through whatever work needed to be done. Considering that most of the things at Downton were at a standstill, it simply meant replying to emails and answering Thomas's questions before enjoying a day at home all to herself. She would wait to properly dress mid-afternoon and pick George and Sybbie up from school before going home.

It was nice, really. She was able to enjoy the freedom she had experienced when Tom and Sybbie were away while knowing they would be home in a few hours time. It made Mary feel secure as she carried out her days... though there were downsides. For one, with so much time on her hands, it meant there was more time to think about Tom.

He was the first thing she thought of everyday when she woke up— which was hardly any wonder, as he was laying beside her. On the mornings where she woke first, she would allow herself a quiet moment to study his face before rising. She had began cataloguing their touches, the innocent moments where they brushed against one another to reach a cabinet or as they walked the stairs. Somehow, despite their best efforts to remain firmly on their side of the bed, they normally woke up in some sort of embrace.

"I didn't know you were such a cuddler," remarked Tom good naturedly one morning when Mary decided to bite the bullet and get ready at the same time as him.

Mary shrugged, ignoring her embarrassment. It had been a long time since she had shared a bed just for sleeping.; with Matthew, it had been natural to hold one another as they slept. She supposed that was all it was, simply a reflex. "I do that when it's cold sometimes," she explained, trying to come up with yet another excuse. She didn't want him thinking it was anything else, not after the Kiss.

He had settled surprisingly easily into her space. They began using the same tube of toothpaste, she became used to the sight of his slippers near the door, and the blankets soon seemed to smell like him. Mary was astonished how little it bothered her.

But her solitude was interrupted by Tom's abrupt declaration that he too would be staying home for the foreseeable future. "They don't need us all in the office," he explained when he arrived home from work. "And most of what I've been writing about can be done at home, anyway. I hope that's not a problem for you."

"Not at all," said Mary, though she now realized her impromptu performances of Broadway showtunes was now on a permanent hold. "You can work in Matthew's office, if you want." Even after all this time, it was still solidly Matthew's office in her mind. She'd never needed the space and it was still full of his possessions... it seemed silly, that neither of them had disturbed it, yet she supposed he too must have viewed it as belonging to Matthew still. "Then you don't have to worry about any distractions."

"That'd be great. Thanks." He looked relieved.

Having the house to themselves felt strange. Mary decided to use the time to binge watch TV shows she had always meant to watch but never seemed to have the time for and Tom hid away in the office for most of the day. Mary usually somehow ended up in charge of lunches, usually making a sandwich for herself and texting him to offer him one as well. That was one of the few times of the day Tom left the office, joining her at the table.

"Are you doing anything interesting?" she asked one afternoon, genuinely curious. She had always expressed a modicum of interest in Tom's work, always admiring of his talent with words, but now she felt even more compelled.

Tom shrugged, reaching down for his sandwich. "Not particularly. The same sort of thing, mostly, but with a little more emphasis on the virus."

Mary nodded, secretly disappointed he wasn't sharing more. She idly picked at her own sandwich, tearing off the crust without much thought, oblivious to the amused look on Tom's face. "Well, I can't say as though my day has been particularly exciting, either. I spoke to those people about the website and now I watched half an episode of _The Good Place_ before deciding to make food."

Tom grinned. "Well, that sounds more thoroughly entertaining that my day this far." He stretched out under the table, foot bumping against Mary's. She tensed inadvertently, stunned by the touch, but she didn't dislike it. Not at all. "Do you mind popping out to the store this afternoon? We might need to stock up on some things."

Mary grimaced. She loved shopping... she just hated grocery shopping. It was so tedious and boring and easily one of Mary's least favorite things about being an adult. Tom usually stopped in once he was through with work but she took on some of the burden as well. "Very well," she sighed. "Do you have a list or should I write it down?"

"You'd best write it down." Mary was about to rise and look for a scrap of paper and pen before realizing she could just jot it down in her Notes app. Mary reached for her phone, typing furiously as he rattled off all the things they might need.

Already a great number of people were wearing masks when Mary arrived to the store. She immediately felt guilty for not doing so herself before reminding herself they didn't really have any masks at her disposal. With a sigh, she added it to her list, figuring all four of them would need them at some point.

She was rolling the trolley down the aisles of the store, pleased she had managed to snag one of the last two packages of toilet paper, looking for some popcorn when Tom's favorite crisps caught her eye. She stopped in the middle of the aisle, much to the annoyance of the middle aged woman who was stuck behind her, biting her lip. It wasn't on the list... and it wasn't as if they needed it... Nevertheless, Mary tossed it in.

Mary almost felt silly when she arrived home, unpacking the groceries by herself. _He's working_ , she reminded herself when she unloaded the crisps, setting them on the counter. Still, once everything was in its appropriate location, Mary grabbed the bag in her hand and set off towards the office.

Mary pressed her ear to the sturdy door, listening for voices. When she heard none, she knocked thrice, albeit lightly. "Come in!" Tom called out.

Mary immediately felt like an idiot when she walked into the office. What was she doing? Was she trying to impress him? Why was she doing this? She might have stood there, saying nothing, for quite some time if Tom had not asked "What's this?"

"Your favorite crisps." She sat them down on the desk. She managed a weak smile. "They were on sale," she lied, not wanting him to think she had done it specially, lest he somehow see her intentions...

But Tom merely gazed down at them. "Thank you," he told her sincerely with a grin, ripping the back open with gusto. The scent of salt and vinegar flavored crisps hit her nostrils, which usually bothered her, but she could hardly mind when her traitorous heart seemed to grow three sizes thanks to his enthusiasm.

"You're welcome," she replied, folding her hands nervously.

It wasn't that she was incapable of doing nice things for others; when it came to the children, Mary found herself doing whatever she could to make them happy without a second thought. When it came to her friends, she was willing to go to any lengths for them. It had been that way for Tom... well, until now. Now all her actions were tinged with something else, a desire to somehow please him for more selfish reasons, reasons she shouldn't be entertaining. What was she hoping would happen? That she would buy him a package of crisps and he would declare his feelings for her? Mary didn't even know how she felt about him, let alone how she wanted him to feel about her.

And yet Mary couldn't say she wouldn't do it again, if for no other reason than to see him smile. She dismissed herself, insisting he ought to get back to work, before slipping out of the room.

* * *

_She felt more alive than she had in ages. It was as though her body was on fire, each brush of his fingers against her bare skin igniting the flames._

_"Stop teasing me," Mary gasped out in frustration as his hand moved away from her thighs. It was like torture, having him so close yet not close enough._

_Tom chuckled and she felt his breath on the side of her neck. She was about to plead with him yet again when he pressed a kiss to her lips and moved his fingers just where she needed them._

Mary awoke, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound so loud in her ears she was certain Tom could hear it... She glanced over to find him blissfully asleep, laying on his side.

Oh God... what was the matter with her? Mary sighed, looking up at the darkened ceiling.

 _It's nothing_ , she attempted to assured herself. Plenty of people had sex dreams about their friends and it didn't mean anything. Google told her the same thing, yet Mary couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was no longer nothing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and well wishes on my midterms, I truly appreciate it! As you might have predicted based on the last chapter, things will heat up in this chapter. I don't think it is especially graphic, but is more so than what I normally write. If you feel like skipping past it, stop reading once they start kissing and pick up after the page break! Hope you enjoy!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Mary was uncertain of how it all began. There was no one moment she could pinpoint and definitively claim as a start. However, the fact of the matter was that it happened. And it kept happening over and over again.

* * *

Something changed. When it had happened, Mary couldn't say, but one morning, things were different.

"Schools are shutting down Friday," Tom informed her, stepping out of the office just before their lunch time. "I just found out about it."

Mary let out a sigh before she could stop herself. She had liked having afternoons with Tom all to herself. Realizing she ought to provide some sort of explanation, she said, "I suppose we knew this was coming."

Tom nodded, walking out to the living room to join her on the couch. Mary hadn't even given much consideration to their lunch routine but was startled when he sat by her, staring ahead instead of meeting her gaze. She waited for him to speak, knowing there was something he needed to say but wasn't quite ready yet.

"Sorry," Tom said, swallowing before continuing, "It's only just hit me that this isn't going to go away anytime soon. It's going to be bad."

Mary's stomach lurched. Truthfully, she had avoided dwelling on it much. She was scared... because how could one not be? She worried about Granny and Mama and Papa, as well as Isobel and Dickie, who were all in that age range that was particularly susceptible. Papa and Dickie had health conditions that made them especially prone to becoming truly ill...

Still, she could see Tom was in need of some comfort. With a hesitance she wished she didn't have, Mary reached out and took his hand. They had done it so many times before, an innocent way of soothing one another, but in that moment she knew it somehow wasn't quite the same as it had been before. "It's okay," she said, well aware that it wasn't okay, that things would get much worse before they would get better, but not certain of what else to say.

Tom said nothing but placed a hand on top of Mary's. She felt his fingers twitch around it, just like how she felt the atmosphere of the room change. Still, she didn't know just what sort of atmosphere it was until Tom turned to face her and their eyes locked. For a moment, she was staring into blue, hardly daring to breathe, the next she was in a supine position, Tom's lips pressed against hers almost urgently. Mary responded with equal fervor.

Just like the time before, Mary could hardly believe it was happening but was too overwhelmed by how wonderful it felt to dwell on it too deeply. A moan escaped her as they continued to kiss, Tom's lips practically bruising in his intensity. Her hands moved instinctively, bringing him closer to her, one on the back of his neck.

It ended much too quickly with Tom pulling away, looming overtop of her with a stunned expression. His lips were swollen, eyes wide and flickering down to her own mouth. Mary found herself wishing he would close the gap between them again but instead he said, "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me."

She tried not to be disappointed... really, she did. "It's perfectly alright," she told him with a forced cheerfulness, though she was still rather breathless. "We're— Well, things are stressful right now. We're all bound to lose our heads every now and again."

Tom nodded before pushing himself off her. Before Mary was even sitting upright again, Tom was already on his feet. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, almost completely avoiding her gaze.

Mary blinked. "Isn't it a bit early for that?" She knew he must be scattered and feeling rather helpless, considering what had just happened, but she could hardly think drinking midday was the solution to the problem that was the state of the world.

"I mean like a cup of tea or something," said Tom, already slipping back into a façade of casualness. It was astonishing, seeing just how quickly he had recovered from their lapse in judgement— she would call it _his_ lapse, but she had been just as eager to kiss him.

"Oh. Yes. Tea sounds good."

Mary sat on the couch, mentally reeling as Tom began filling up the kettle. Once could be considered an accident, but a second time...

 _He's obviously distressed_ , she reminded herself, staring down at her denim clad knees. _He was looking for some comfort and hand holding wasn't quite cutting it. There's no need to flatter yourself._

Still, Mary couldn't help but compare it to last time. It was nice to know her drunken self hadn't merely overblown things— Tom really _was_ a great kisser. It was an experience she would be willing to replicate in a heartbeat... but one she never would. Obviously.

By the time Tom returned with the tea, Mary had mostly composed herself. Her eyes fell to his lips unintentionally when she accepted the proffered cup and thanked him, before she quickly averted her gaze to the coffee table. As if he didn't quite trust himself, Tom sat in the rarely occupied arm chair, holding his own cup in his hands. He didn't drink it, simply staring blankly ahead. Mary sipped at hers, uncertain of what to do or what to say.

Somehow, after a long pause, the settled into a fairly neutral conversation of what to do with the children once the time came and to be expecting. Mary listened carefully, but admittedly it was hard to concentrate... especially when she wished he would just stop talking and kiss her again.

* * *

They didn't speak of it— at least not until they went to bed. Tom had gone up early, citing tiredness, and Mary had finished watching her show. She half expected him to be asleep already but found him scrolling through his phone when she arrived to the bedroom. It wasn't until she climbed into bed that Tom said, "We're alright, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," said Mary. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I just mean..." Tom trailed off. "Well, after this afternoon, I thought maybe you might be more comfortable if I slept somewhere else." Mary was inwardly protesting as Tom nervously continued, "I can manage to sleep on the couch again for a few days until we buy an air mattress or something—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary cut him off, more harshly than she intended. She dealt him a serious look before saying, "It's not that big of a deal, Tom." It was a lie— it _was_ a big deal— but Mary wasn't about to force Tom to sleep on that torture device of a couch.

Tom relaxed, laying back down. "Alright," he said warily as Mary settled down. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." She rolled over onto her side, not facing him, still tense.

* * *

It was clear, despite their best efforts to pretend otherwise, that things had been altered between them. There was almost an electricity surrounding them, sparks flying when they dared step too close to one another. Inadvertent brushes of hands and shoulders and feet were charged, almost as shocking as jolt, yet they neither one acknowledged it. To do so would have been tedious in the first place, given home many times Mary awoke in the middle of the night to Tom's leg wedged between hers and an arm wrapped around her waist, or vice versa.

During one of their final days of solitude, Mary decided to work on hoovering the living room. As she plugged it in, Tom emerged from the office, holding his laptop. "Oh... are you working out here?"

"It's a sunny day," he explained. "I wanted to go by the window. The office is nice, but doesn't have quite enough natural light." Tom settled himself down at the table, pulling out his chair.

She nodded. "Alright. I'll do something else, then." She bent down once more to unplug it.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I can handle it," Tom frantically assured her.

"I don't want to disturb you while you work."

"You won't be," he insisted yet again. He sat his laptop on the table. "Please. Go ahead."

With a sigh, Mary acquiesced. She started up the hoover, its roar loud and most certainly making Tom's concentration waver. She winced, glancing over her shoulder at him. Mercifully, he was looking at his screen. She let out a sigh of relief, which was unable to be heard, and commenced with her task.

But after a few minutes of hoovering the carpet, Mary realized that Tom was no longer fixated on work. Instead, as palpable as a physical touch, she felt his eyes lingering on her. She did her best to ignore it. _It's because you're moving about and you've a loud object with you,_ she told herself. Still, it was hard to convince herself of that narrative when, even after she was through, Tom was still watching her. Even after she had taken care of the chores and was curled up in the armchair on her phone, she kept sensing Tom's gaze. Once or twice, she even caught him, which was always when his blue eyes would dart back to his work.

She didn't quite know how to feel about this. What did it mean? What was so fascinating about her? Did it have something to do with that kiss or was he possibly even attracted to her? Mary had an over abundance of questions and no answers, which meant she was steadily growing frustrated.

However, that wasn't the only frustration mounting. It had been some time since Mary had last been with a man intimately and something about sharing a home and bed with a handsome man who was off limits to her meant her mind wandered to unseemly places. It was the most exquisite kind of torture, laying next to him in bed, knowing that all it would take was leaning over...

But she wouldn't. She _couldn't_. So whenever Mary awoke from dreams involving her, Tom, and very little clothing, she immediately darted to the bathroom, turned the shower on and doused herself with cold water, hoping the starve away those fantasies.

Nevertheless, it remained difficult. Somehow innocent actions were now erotic. She found her eyes lingering for much too long on his fingers and mouth, thoughts getting carried away with her until Tom asked her something, bringing her back into reality.

Once the children were home, her Friday afternoon and evening was provided with an adequate distraction. It was harder to lose track of time thinking about Tom in ways she shouldn't when Sybbie and George were there to occupy her. She began devoting her energy to transitioning to schooling at home.

"It will be much easier, once things calm down and we can build the addition onto the house," said Mary, reminding herself that the sleeping situation with Tom was not permanent. She turned to Sybbie. "Do you have any ideas about what you want your new room to look like?"

Sybbie shrugged exaggeratedly. "I like my new room," she said, voice close to a whine. "Why will I need to move?"

"I figured you would want to, that's all," said Mary, surprised by her reaction. "After all, you were the one to move out of your old room... and your Dad will need his old room back at some point."

"Yeah, but I like my new one. It's nice."

"It's small, though, darling. Wouldn't you like a bigger room?" urged Mary, hoping to get her to see some sense.

"Not really."

"I want to move," said George suddenly. "I like my room, but maybe I'll like a new one better."

Mary blinked rapidly. Did this mean Tom would have to move into George's room? She suddenly realized then their bedrooms would be close together, so close and yet so far...

"We can discuss this later, when your Dad isn't working," she finally said, figuring Tom deserved to have a say in where he ended up. Considering how obliging he was of the children, she figured he would be more willing to take over George's room.

However, once the subject was broached to him, he was rather ambivalent. "I don't know if there is much sense in worrying about all that now," he said as he and Mary cleared up dinner. She blinked rapidly, which he remained oblivious to. "It will be some time before we can hire anyone anyway, so I don't know how wise it is to worry about things now... and you know how children like to change their minds. Who knows how they'll feel in a few months time?"

"A few months?" The words left Mary's mouth before she could stop them.

Tom turned around, the container full of leftovers in his hands. "It's going to be bad, Mary. There's no telling once things will reopen."

Mary knew that logically, considering they were all stuck at home for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, all she could think about was sharing her bed with Tom for several more months, with no real end in sight. _Oh God... how am I going to manage this?_ She felt like a fool for not realizing the problem earlier... but what was she supposed to do? Tell him? She wasn't about to let him sleep on the couch again, nor was she going to force him onto an air mattress in the living room or wherever he meant to set it up.

The worst part of all it was _knowing_ how wonderful things could be if they just gave in. Those kisses had been intense, hinting at some compatibility, lustful and passionate. It was only her repeated reminders about how inappropriate it was, along with her unwavering certainty Tom's initiation was the result of anxiety fueled stress. It wouldn't be right and it was never going to happen again.

"Yes, of course," she said, understanding he was waiting for a reply. Her concentration was affected by his blue eyes trained intently on her. "I just— I suppose it's only just hit me how long this might be."

Tom managed a small smile. "We'll get through it," he said, setting the leftovers on the counter so he could take two steps forward and pull her into an embrace. Mary's brain was still tripping over the _We_ in his statement when she felt his arms wrapping around her, suddenly aware of her heart beating in her chest... God, what if he could feel it somehow know what she was thinking?

Thankfully, he didn't seem to. _This isn't anything you haven't done before,_ Mary told herself, reciprocating the gesture, arms moving mechanically. Her senses were heightened, inhaling his scent inadvertently.

"Feel better?" Tom said in her ear, causing her heart rate to spike again.

Mary nodded, not trusting her ability to speak quite yet.

* * *

Mary awoke on Saturday morning to Tom climbing out of bed. She groaned in protest as the warmth escaped from the covers.

"Sorry," he whispered, and her eyelids parted. She heard his footsteps pad across the room and opened her eyes, just in time to watch him remove his shirt. Her eyelids shut almost immediately. Obviously it wasn't scandalous and it was hardly anything she hadn't seen before, but it was more the context... Why hadn't he gone to the bathroom? He seemed to exclusively change there... Unless he had been changing here while she slept? That particular thought seemed to stick in her head longer than it should. Still, her eyes remained shut until he left the room.

Mary sat up in bed, more than a little put out. She glanced at the phone, as if she wasn't already aware, looking down at the date. It was her birthday and he hadn't said _anything_. Had he forgotten? She had offhandedly mentioned a few times, and while she was hardly expecting a party, she would have appreciated a little acknowledgement.

Mary sat in bed, irritated and annoyed. She was wide awake now, all hopes of going to sleep again gone. Mary knew she was being beyond petty, sulking in her room like this, but she wasn't in the mood right now to go join him downstairs, as she knew she should. Maybe in a little while... But for now, she would look at her phone and answer the birthday greetings already sent from her parents.

Before she had given any thought to going downstairs, she heard a knock at her door. Her brow furrowed as Tom's muffled voice said, "Can you open the door? My hands are full."

Curious and wondering what he could possibly have, Mary climbed out of bed. She opened it up to find Tom with a tray full of food. "What's this?" She asked.

"Happy birthday!" Tom beamed, looking proud. "Sorry I made you get out of bed— funnily enough, the point was to keep you there..."

Mary's thoughts quickly went down an avenue they shouldn't. Before she could let herself dwell on things involving Tom and her bed, Mary distracted herself. It was a full English breakfast, completed with a cup of her favorite tea. "This is marvelous," she said, genuinely touched. "Thank you!"

Tom grinned. "If you get back into bed, I'll set it down for you. Like a lady's maid."

Mary chuckled but gladly climbed back into bed. "This is delicious," she told him, in awe that he had gone through such an effort. "Have you ate yet?"

He shook his head. "No. George and Sybbie are sleeping yet. I'll eat with them."

"Don't you want to try some of it?" offered Mary, realizing he had served her a large portion. "I don't mind sharing."

"I didn't bring another fork," Tom reminded her, sitting down.

"You can use mine," offered Mary unthinkingly, only realizing belatedly that maybe it wasn't the best thing to ask in the midst of a pandemic.

Tom didn't seem to mind or care. Mary supposed that considering they lived together, there was little chance they were really exposing each other more by sharing eating utensils... especially considering they shared a bed now. "Alright... I'll have a bite or two, but you need to try some first," he agreed, settling more in the bed.

As always, Tom's cooking was phenomenal. He had really overdone himself this time, and she told him so, which he waved off, insisting it was nothing. He then took the fork from her and it was then that Mary appreciated the intimacy of the gesture.

"I have to admit," said Mary as she joined Tom in the kitchen as the children occupied themselves in the living room, "I thought you had forgotten about me."

Tom shook his head, a small smile on his face. "How could I forget?" he asked, scrubbing a dish.

She shrugged. "It's been known to happen."

"Well, I could never forget something so important," Tom said, much too casually for the affect it had on Mary. She could hardly even begin to describe the all consuming warmth that had taken over her.

A few beats of silence passed before Mary realized she ought to say something. "Are you sure?" She said lightly, leaning against the countertop. "Even when you're old and grey?"

"Of course," Tom replied with ease. "I might forget my own name or that I'm supposed to wear trousers out in public, but I'll be sure to remember your birthday."

Mary laughed but somehow began imagining the distant future. She realized then that she really couldn't envision a future without Tom there in some capacity. Even when she tried to picture herself as Granny's age, she had an image of Tom sitting beside her, maybe in a rocking chair, reminiscing.

It was a strange sort of thought, but one she knew she wanted... which was why she couldn't let their friendship be ruined. Ever.

* * *

"Well, how does thirty four feel?" asked Tom, joining Mary in the bed.

Mary shrugged, a little surprised. They hadn't really had proper conversations in the bed together yet, mainly engaging in awkward small talk and exchanging goodnights. This must be a sign he had grown more comfortable with their arrangement, which came as a relief. She was relieved he was over the stiltedness from before. "Alright, I suppose. Certainly an eventful one, one I doubt I'll forget."

Tom chuckled. "A birthday during a pandemic sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity... though I hope it won't still be a problem by the time we reach my birthday."

Mary hoped not as well. November was far away... "As long as everyone does what they are supposed to, we should be fine and you shall have a perfect normal birthday," she figured, settling down.

Tom nodded, gaze locked on her. Before she question it too deeply, he dropped it. "Well, good night," he finally said after a while, before turning off the lamp.

* * *

The first day of their new lives began on a remarkably uneventful note. All four of them slept in before rising about ten o'clock, enjoying a nice brunch. George and Sybbie, equipped with homework packets, were supervised in the living room by Mary, who scrolled idly on her phone and helped whenever necessary. Being children, it was easy for them to become distracted, but she quickly reminded them to focus and they did... for the most part.

Things remained relatively uneventful until evening. "I think today went well, didn't you?" said Mary as her and Tom ascended the steps for bed.

"Yes," said Tom, strangely disinterested and seeming unfocused.

Mary frowned. "We didn't distract you, being in the living room, did we? I can always move them to their rooms."

"No, don't worry," Tom cut her off. "It's fine. I barely noticed. They were good for you." They had reached the first landing, near Sybbie's room... The place they had shared the first kiss. Mary tried to think about literally anything else. "We make a good team, don't we?" He mused aloud.

"I think so." Mary knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn't be where she was now without Tom's help.

They fell into a companionable silence as they walked to their room, passing George's. Mary reached out to turn the door knob, only for Tom's hand to grab ahold of it first, hands colliding her a brief moment. There was that jolt of electricity again, but Tom said nothing, merely opening the door and saying, "After you, _milady_."

"What a gentleman," she drawled, entering the bedroom. She made it about two steps before somehow losing her balance, tripping over Tom's slippers that he left by the door. Instead of falling to the floor, Tom's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her mostly upright.

"Steady," he said behind her, before helping her to her feet. She thought he might let go of her as she turned to face him, but his arm remained around her, hold loose, even as she turned around to face him. "Are you alright?"

Mary nodded, unable to speak, keenly aware of his hand and his arm and her racing heart. "'M sorry," Tom said, voice scarcely louder than a murmur. "I shouldn't leave those by the door."

"It's alright." Mary only realized now that his eyes were on her lips. What... Was he going to...? Unable to bear the suspense, Mary let one hand rest on his chest, right above his heart, before leaning forward ever so slightly.

That seemed to be enough. Before Mary could get close enough, Tom had already moved forward, capturing her lips. Unlike the fervent ones that they had shared before, this was slow, almost gentle. They clung to one another, savoring the moment, all the tension that had been slowly built up over boiling over in this one moment.

Mary tried telling herself it would only last for so long, that she ought to enjoy it while she still could, but it seemed to stretch on and on. Tom's hand had slid down ever so slightly, maybe even without any conscious effort, his hand now on her hip. She kept waiting for that moment where he would pull away, the moment where he would break the kiss and apologize, but it never seemed to happen.

They must have started backing up at some point because Mary suddenly felt her knees hit the back of her mattress. On instinct, she tumbled back, tugging Tom down with her. Sirens screeched in her head, warning her this was that step too far, that this would be what drove him away...

The kisses stopped but only for a brief second. Tom drew away, long enough to meet her wide, apprehensive eyes. She could see his pupils were dilated and felt the arm pinned beneath her leave. There was a moment of hesitation, a second of careful deliberation, until Tom pressed another kiss to her mouth.

From that point on, there seemed to be an urgency to everything. Mary felt alive, pulling him closer and closer to her. The intensity only seemed to grow greater, never scaling back. It was as if they were on fire...

Their lips met, again and again, Mary's heart racing. She couldn't believe this was real, that it was actually happening. His left hand slid down her body, resting on her hip. Without thinking, she arched her body off the bed, making contact with him and his arousal.

It was then that Tom pulled away after making a choked moaning sound against her mouth. Mary immediately felt ashamed. Ready to apologize for her actions, she was astonished when Tom look her in the eyes, panting heavily and a hand still on the back of her neck. "Do you want this?" There was no room for misinterpretation, not now that they were on the precipice of altering their relationship irrevocably.

Mary hesitated. This was a complicated situation and it wouldn't do any good to pretend it wasn't. He was the man her sister had loved, the man her husband had welcomed in and seen as a best friend, the man who was raising children with her... Tom knew her better than anyone else.

But damn it if she didn't want him with every fiber of her being.

Mary nodded before whispering, "Yes."

She had barely breathed the word before Tom was kissing her again, his tongue tracing her lips before entering her open, willing mouth. Mary tugged him closer, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers running through his hair with abandon.

The touch of his fingers against the bare skin of her stomach made her gasp. Mary pulled away, watching as Tom slowly lifted her shirt up. She was so transfixed in watching his actions that it never occurred to her to help, only to raise her arms and let him divest her of it. The air felt cool against her flesh and Mary stared into his eyes, wondering if she met his approval as she unhooked her bra.

Tom said nothing, merely staring down at her with a curious expression. Growing self conscious, Mary was about to cover herself with her arms until Tom leaned in again, kissing her deeply, one hand on her waist and the other sliding down low before his fingers hooked into the elastic of her leggings. Mary encouraged him with a nod, her lips parted as she kissed him again, lifting up her hips so he could tug them off.

From that point, it was frenzy to remove Tom of his clothing. Mary felt as though she was being driven mad, as if she had forgotten who she was and the role she was supposed to play. Realistically, they shouldn't be doing this... but Mary found herself more and more desperate for him with each article of clothing being cast aside, joining hers on the floor.

Soon, kisses were no longer confined to her mouth. Mary panted as his lips descended to her neck and lower and lower down her body. Her fingers found their way into Tom's hair when he reached her hipbone. Mary lifted her head up, glancing down as he settled down by her thighs, before gasping loudly and arching her back.

Being with Tom was so different than any other man she had been with. His attentiveness was something she had sorely missed her more recent encounters, as if he had all the time in the world to see she was fully satisfied. She had been forced to press a hand to her mouth to muffle out all the involuntary noises that escaped while the other tangled itself in his hair, determined to keep him where was.

"D'you have— condom?" Mary managed between shallow gasps once Tom gradually worked his way up her body again, trailing kisses on her hips, her ribs, her breasts, her collarbone, before finally meeting her lips. She tasted herself as they kissed before he pulled away to reply to her.

"Yeah. Hold on." Their sweaty foreheads met as Tom pressed another inelegant kiss to her lips before climbing out of bed.

Mary let her head fall to the side, watching him. It was as if her eyes were fully opened now... He was so beautiful. How had she not seen it before? Mary studied every inch of him, in awe and shocked that this was really about to happen.

A voice in the back of her head tried to tell her it was the lust talking, that it wasn't as much a desire for Tom but her mounting sexual frustration, but Mary wasn't so easily convinced. He was already different to her now... but in the best possible way. Realizing she had been ogling at him for some time, Mary maneuvered herself underneath the sheets, trying to regain her composure.

When Tom returned to bed, slipping under the covers with her, it occurred to Mary how mad this whole thing was. If she had any sense, she would have said something, she would have put a stop to it... but instead Mary parted her legs.

* * *

Mary woke up facing the wall, an arm draped across her bare waist. It took her a minute to remember what had happened before her eyes widened and she breathed in sharply. _Oh my God..._

She rolled over to face Tom, as if there was any doubt in her mind who was sleeping next to her. His eyes were still shut, his chest bare, and a slight stubble on his cheeks already. Mary faltered at the sight, panic replaced by a sort of calmness. She studied him with care, a deep affection swelling within her.

She ought to be panicking. She ought to be nearly sick with dread, hoping she hadn't screwed everything up irreparably with the one person who meant so much to her. But Mary was oddly placid— though she was worried about the conversation she was sure that would follow, even though she had no intentions of starting it herself. It had happened... and she had enjoyed herself. Immensely.

Nevertheless, Mary knew she had to leave this bed. With one last, lingering look at Tom, Mary pulled herself out of bed, the arm he had wrapped around her thudding against the mattress. Mary didn't even bother searching for her clothes before she walked into the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself for any evidence of last night's activities. Everything about her looked the same— no one looking at her would ever know what she had done and who she had done it with. It wasn't until she leaned against the sink to get an even closer look at her face that she felt a slight twinge against her right hip. Mary drew away, noting a small, bluish bruise. She wasn't surprised; she had always bruised easily and it had been known to happen whenever her partner was fairly enthusiastic. Mary could recall a brief moment from the night before where Tom had gripped her there... she closed her eyes, getting sucked into the memory before remembering what she was supposed to be doing. Mary walked over to the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go, gradually scaling back the temperature before stepping in.

After Mary was cleaned, she stepped into the bedroom to grab some clothes, adorned in only a mauve towel. The room was empty, Tom having left ten minutes prior. Mary wasn't certain if she was disappointed or relieved to prolong the inevitable discussion.

She dressed and walked down the stairs, finding Tom and the children at the table. "Good morning," she said brightly, determined to not to let her actions betray the discomfort she was felt. Lord, what was she supposed to say to him now? Everything had changed.

The children suspected nothing was amiss, George excitedly telling her a dream he had about being chased by a dinosaur (which was maybe a sign she shouldn't have allowed him to watch _Jurassic Park_ ). Mary could pretend all was as it should be until she met Tom's eyes...and then she froze, remembering everything... and she knew he did too.

She found herself distracted numerous times during breakfast, though she was doing her best to avoid meeting his gaze. When he reached across the table for a napkin, her eyes lingered on his hands, remembering how they had felt against her skin. He ran a hand through his hair at one point to brush back a strand of hair and at once Mary remembered running her hands through it mere hours before. She felt the stirrings of longing for him yet again before cursing herself for it.

Once breakfast was over, Tom casually asked, "Do you mind taking care of the dishes? I've a deadline coming up..."

"Of course," she said quickly, rising to her feet. She walked toward the kitchen, accidentally brushing past him in her haste, a soft gasp escaping her.

"Sorry," Tom said quickly before all but dashing away to the office. Mary blinked rapidly, frozen in place before walking into the kitchen, followed by George and Sybbie.

The rest of the day was in itself fairly tedious but Mary was on edge the entire day, lost in imaginings. The problem was that now that she knew what it was like with Tom and how magical it felt, she couldn't stop thinking about it. How were they expected to move past this? How were things supposed to return to normal?

When lunchtime approached, Mary received a text from Tom informing her that he was still working and would be unable to join them. Mary wondered if it was true or if he was just hellbent on avoiding her. Nevertheless, when the time came, Mary sent Sybbie in with his sandwich instead of daring to go in herself.

When Tom emerged for some tea, Mary at once felt guilty for doubting him. He looked tired and worn out. Mary slipped into the kitchen after him, watching him fill up the kettle. "All done?"

Tom jumped, not noticing there. "Very nearly." He turned back his task. "I just need to finish things up."

Mary nodded, leaning her side against the door, feeling the twinge on her hip. It hit her just then that it was the first time they had been alone together since she'd woken up. "You look exhausted," she said, thinking it was a contrast to how well rested she had felt that morning.

"I feel exhausted," admitted Tom, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Why don't you take a nap once you're done?" Mary found herself saying.

"What about dinner?"

"I'll order something."

Tom seemed hesitant. "Do you think it's safe?"

"It'll be safer than me trying to cook anything," joked Mary. When Tom didn't smile, she said, "I'll make them drop it off on the doorstep so we don't come into contact with one another."

Tom seemed content with that and soon they settled into easy conversation, as devoid from tension as they had been yesterday. If it weren't for that constant, dull pain whenever she leaned her hip against the door frame, Mary would have been convinced she had dreamed last night.

She kept trying to remind herself, after Tom had gone back to work, that they would inevitably need to talk about it. She figured the only reason they hadn't already was because George and Sybbie were within earshot. Tom wasn't the kind of person to let these things go without discussing it... even though Mary was vainly hoping very much they wouldn't. How could she possibly defend herself?

To be honest, she still wasn't certain why or how things had escalated. Was it just a result of quarantine? Mary wished she could convince herself that was all it was. The horrible truth was that she was wondering if perhaps it wasn't just a random, spontaneous burst of quarantine lust but rather a reflection of deeper feelings. She couldn't deny that she found Tom attractive and there was a certain sort chemistry between them... but that couldn't possibly be it.

Mary was content ignoring her feelings, clamping them down as she busied herself with menial household tasks. She heard Tom walking up the stairs as she finished cleaning the countertops in the kitchen, ordering herself not to look at him... only for her resolve to fail and peek out at him, catching a glimpse of him as he disappeared up the steps. He gaze was directed upward and he looked weary, but Mary couldn't help but find him handsome.

She sighed. Dammit... she'd made a mess, hadn't she?

But, she reminded herself as she turned her task to sweeping the floors, it wasn't just her, was it? Tom had been the one to take things that one step further; _he_ had been the one to ask _her_. They had both played a part in it...

It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. Once was just a fluke... Clearly, they had both been overwhelmed and looking for some release. Surely no one could hold it against them? They were living in stressful, unprecedented times and they needed a night unconsumed by it. It was a perfectly normal reaction, but one they were unlikely to succumb to again.

Once the pizza arrived to the house an hour later, Mary climbed the stairs to George's bedroom, where both children were playing. They were excited to learn the pizza was there, and Mary found herself ask, "Will one of you please go wake up your father and let him know?" Both Sybbie and George happily volunteered for the task and Mary found herself sighing with relief as she walked down the stairs.

"You look like you're feeling much better," Mary told Tom once he joined them. He looked less weary, more rested.

"I am." He pulled out his chair, having a seat before leaning across the table for a slice of pizza. He was avoiding eye contact with her... and Mary tried to ignore that hurt she felt welling up inside her. She had thought things were alright between them...

After George and Sybbie had been put to bed, Mary turned to Tom and said, "I'm going to bed now."

"Alright," he replied, still with that strange coolness she wasn't used to. She didn't like it one bit... and she disliked it even more when she realized it wasn't at all dissimilar to her own aloofness. She immediately felt sorry for anyone on other side of it. "I'll be up in a while."

 _A while_ meant a little under half an hour. By that point, Mary was in bed, eyes closed but her mind wide awake. She keep hoping she would slip into slumber, just to avoid any awkwardness, only for the door to open. She pretended to be asleep as he carried out his nightly routine. When he rejoined her in the bed, she was more awake than ever and not in the most comfortable of positions. With a soft sigh, she rolled onto her back.

"Sorry," Tom whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. I wasn't asleep yet anyway."

"Are you tired?"

And somehow Mary knew what he was really asking. "No," she whispered back, heart rate quickening in anticipation. "I'm not tired at all."

There was a still moment before they moved at the same time, lips crashing together and hands reaching out desperately.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I really do appreciate every single one!
> 
> These two are back at it again, so if you prefer to skip the more mature stuff, stop reading when Mary suggests they go to bed and pick up after the page break.

**New Normal**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Mary didn't wake until Tom's alarm went off and he began stirring beside her. The shrill noise was grating, especially so early in the morning. The silence came as a relief after he hit snooze for the first time.

Like every other morning that week, Mary began to slowly become more and more aware of her surroundings. She was completely naked, one arm draped across Tom's chest as she laid on her side. Not for the first time, she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her... or, for that matter, both of them.

The guilt started up again. It hadn't threatened to overwhelm her until after the second time, when it became clear that this was more than just a one time occurrence. After coming down from her high and drifting into a deep sleep, Mary had been haunted by a dream of Sybil, demanding to know why Mary was sleeping with her husband. She only recalled fragments of it when she woke up, but she remembered the anger on her sister's face, the accusation in her voice, the way she yelled, " _You've ruined my life!"_

It had taken almost a whole day to remind herself that she wasn't betraying Sybil... at least not in that way. If Sybil were still alive, Mary knew with certainty this would have never happened. Tom would have been little more than an in-law she saw at holidays, a character in Sybil's stories of living in Ireland. No— Mary never would have done anything to intentionally hurt Sybil.

But now... well, Mary didn't know how to feel about this. In the grand scheme of things, they had done nothing wrong. They were two single friends living together and releasing the tension of quarantine through sex. They were living in unprecedented times and coping the best way they could...

Except things weren't that straightforward. Before anyone had even considered they would spend weeks locked up in their own homes, they had shared a kiss. As loath as Mary was to admit it, perhaps Charles Blake had been right after all. She had looked him up on Facebook the other day, learning he was now in Poland. She had been tempted to message him and let him know she understood now what he had been saying, but decided against it. After the way things ended between them, she doubted he wanted to hear from her ever again.

But at the same time, the issue was staring them right in the face. She was sleeping with Tom— _Sybil's_ Tom. As in the man she was supposed to marry. If she felt like making it even worse, Mary could remind herself that Tom had been Matthew's best friend as well.

It was madness. All sense was telling her this shouldn't have happened in the first place, that it shouldn't continue happening...

But when they went to bed that night, lips pressed together and hands caressing every inch of bare skin available, she was too far gone to think about where her sanity might be.

* * *

Things had changed in only the subtlest of ways and yet in some of the most significant ways. Their day to day life was hardly affected at all; practically everything was the same as it had always been, quarantine adjustments aside. In fact, if anyone else were to observe them together, it would have been impossible for them to distinguish a difference.

Mary, however, was acutely aware of how things had changed. She catalogued it carefully in her mind. She now realized how much time she spent watching him. Her eyes lingered on his lips far more often that strictly acceptable whenever they talked, mind thinking about how they had felt against her thigh the night before. When he was on his phone and unaware of her presence, Mary was able to take in each aspect of his appearance and marvel at how handsome he was. She found herself offering to wash the dishes so he wouldn't wear those obnoxious yellow rubber gloves he always insisted on putting on, allowing her the chance to watch his hands while he did the drying up.

Similarly, she was now aware of the way her body reacted to him. Her heart beat faster now, it seemed, especially when he did something sweet like make her favorite for dinner when he knew she'd had a long day dealing with the children. Compliments became more treasured, something she replayed in her mind during the quiet moments. And— most notably— she found, at different points in the day, she was counting down the hours until the children were asleep so she could get them back into her bedroom.

But Tom had altered his behavior towards her, too— apart from obvious. It took her a while to put her finger on the change but soon Mary realized that he was avoiding touching her. She had taken for granted those small touches he bestowed her: brushing past one another to get into the kitchen, their feet bumping under the table, his hand reaching out towards her in moments where she needed comfort... if their hands so much as connected when she handed him the remote, he jerked it away as if it were on fire. In fact, he kept a respectable distance from her at all times now; she suspected he would be a perfect model for the two meters difference they were meant to be maintaining.

Of course, it was a completely different story behind closed doors. Like Mary, it seemed as if he had been waiting all day for them to finally be alone. At that point in time, it almost seemed as if he could hardly bear _not_ touching her. Though there was usually a sense of urgency to it, Tom was also willing to take his time. It was maddening and exhilarating in equal measures.

He must have thought about it as often as she did, how bizarre it was that things had taken this turn. While not wholly unforeseen, Mary was astonished by how quickly life could change, personally and globally. The world was upside down and instead of trying to retain normalcy, it seemed her and Tom and silently given into the madness.

They never spoke of it. It was a rule they both maintained, one Mary was glad that existed. For one thing, if Tom has decided they needed to sit down and talk about their feelings, Mary wasn't sure how she would respond. Putting a name to her emotions at present seemed impossible... especially when she found herself feeling guilty for how much she enjoyed herself.

Nevertheless, Mary figured that at some point this would come to a natural conclusion. Once the virus gone in a few months and the world was all right again, the addition would be built onto the house and this would come to its end. Considering at how well they were handling not letting it ruin things now, Mary figured it would be easy enough for them to slip back into familiar roles once it was over. After all, this was simply a way to relieve stress and escape the real world for a while.

They weren't dating— that much was clear to her. Considering there had been no discussions (of any sort) between them, it was a purely physical thing. Besides, Mary remembered his hesitance to enter relationships. Lucy seemed to indicate he was willing to step back into the dating scene but she wasn't wholly certain. There was no need to pretend it was more than what it was— it was just sex.

If only she could have convinced herself of that.

* * *

"How is everyone doing?"

"Well," said Mary, crossing her legs over her lap. She wished she had grabbed a jacket before stepping out onto the back porch. Mama had called and she had gone outside to prevent herself from distracting the children. "Keeping busy. Has Papa checked his email yet?"

"Mary, you know he's supposed to be taking things easy," scolded Mama. "He doesn't need to be stressed out over estate things when life is already hectic as it is."

Mary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The email had simply been about the virtual tours. She was starting to realize such a thing was unlikely to come into fruition, especially since it was going to be impossible for her to drive over and oversee things herself. Papa was many things, but technologically savvy was not one of them.

"Well, please tell him to check when it is convenient. I promise it's nothing terribly daunting."

"You haven't told me how my grandchildren are," Mama prompted, ignoring Mary's request.

She bit back a sigh. "They're doing schoolwork. Homework packets and such. It's hardly exciting but otherwise they're enjoying being home."

"They don't miss their friends?"

"Oh, they do, but they're managing well enough," said Mary. "And they're already each other's best friend, so they're lucky in that regard."

Mama let out a sigh and Mary wondered if she was wistfully wishing Mary and Edith could have been the same way. It certainly would have made things more harmonious growing up. "Are they still sharing a room?"

Mary tensed. "Why do you ask?" Her voice took on a shrillness that was normally absent.

"Well... don't you think they're getting a little old for that, dear? I know they love each other but at some point, they'll need their own space..."

Mary was suddenly very glad that her and Tom had already prepped George and Sybbie about not mentioning the bedroom situation with anyone. She suspected they would be in need of a reminder soon, especially if Mama was asking prying questions like this. "We're planning on building an addition to the house once all this is over," she said with a sigh. "For now, there's very little we can do... unless you have any suggestions?"

Another sigh. "I suppose not," admitted Mama reluctantly.

Mary was surprised by the relief she felt after hearing her say that. A two weeks ago, Mary might have readily welcomed advice on how to handle alternative sleeping arrangements. Now she was glad she would have no excuse to tell Tom about the brilliant idea Mama had offered up that didn't involve sleeping on a couch or sharing a bed.

"How's Tom?"

"He's doing well. He's busy."

"I'll bet." Mary shifted in her seat, nearly dropping her phone when Mama asked, "Has he been staying up late at night?"

"No more than me," replied Mary smoothly, though her cheeks felt warm. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Oh, I just wondered if he had more work now with things the way they are now," Mama asked, causing a sigh of relief to escape Mary. "It seems like everything changes so quickly."

"Well, he's more focused on things going on in our area." Tom had been telling her about the piece he was doing on nursing homes and the no-visitor policies. She remembered the passion in his voice as he described it to her, how much he truly cared about properly reporting on the story. "He doesn't have to keep up with things going on in your country anymore or else I suspect he would be."

Mama made a somewhat annoyed noise. "Don't forget that it's also the country where your grandmother lives," she pointed out. "And I'm worried about her. I'd go visit her and make sure she is okay through all of this, but with flights shut down, I can't."

Mary immediately felt guilty. Usually when she spoke of America with Mama, it was when she was trying to shove her mother away or stop her from pushing in, a way to remind her of how different they were. She supposed now wasn't the time for this, especially since there was no telling when she would see her mother in person again. "I didn't mean it like that," she said wearily. "I was merely saying that Yorkshire is a little more quiet compared to the whole of America. That's all."

"It certainly is." The call concluded shortly after that, with Mary promising to give everyone else her and Papa's love. She hung up, hands cold and ill at ease.

* * *

"Something is bothering you," Tom said as they walked down the stairs after sending George and Sybbie to bed.

Mary didn't even bother hiding it. She merely shook her head. "It's nothing," she lied, but when he dealt her a serious look, she let out a sigh and amended, "At least it's nothing to trouble you with."

"I'd like to help if I can," he offered.

Mary was almost ashamed at how quickly her mind went to the gutter after hearing that, especially when she sensed there was no ulterior motives for him to say such a thing. If anything, Tom looked genuinely eager to alleviate her worries. It was just him being sweet, not simply trying to hurry her to the bedroom.

So she decided to confide in him. "Do you think I'm rather thoughtless?" It was a loaded question, considering one could easily make the argument she hadn't been thinking when it came to him, but she wanted to hear his answer regardless. The disagreement with Mama still bothered her.

Tom frowned. "Why would you say something like that, for heaven's sakes?"

Mary shrugged. "I had a disagreement with Mama today."

"Did she say anything?" His tone was suddenly sharp. She was taken aback by his intensity.

Shaking her head, Mary replied, "No. It was just me being my normal self... but it bothered me." Feeling ridiculous, she turned away from him. "It's nothing. Really."

Tom was quiet beside her until he said, "Sometimes you say things and they don't come out the wrong way. It happens to us all. There's nothing wrong with you. That's just a part of who you are."

"Well sometimes I wish I weren't," she admitted, staring down at her own feet, ankles crossed in front of her.

"Then that tells me that you aren't nearly as bad as person as you try to convince yourself you are." His arm seemed to twitch, as though he wanted to wrap it around her to comfort her, but thought better of it. Mary couldn't help but wonder what was stopping him... and she found herself wishing he hadn't. She could use his touch to soothe her just about now. "Someone who didn't want to change or make things better might be, but not you."

She lifted up her head to make eye contact with him. The lights in the room were dimmed but she could see him clearly, in ways she never had before. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am." He smiled at her. "You're my best friend. I see how you care for others around you and I know that you always do the best you can. So I'm not worried about it. Not at all."

Mary couldn't help but think it was rather a sunny opinion of her, as sometimes it was easier to slip into the version of herself full of caustic remarks and causing problems for others. But she wouldn't refute him, not when he was being so honest and kind. He was smiling at her, with a tenderness she didn't feel she deserved, but was willing to accept nonetheless.

Her gratitude couldn't be encapsulated in words. She settled for a smile, letting that do the talking for her, until a few minutes later, after the conversation had shifted to lighter topics, and asked, "Are you ready for bed now?"

He understood her meaning. He answered her with a nod and they walked up the stairs, at a speed that was perhaps a little too quick to be considered respectable.

The second the door shut behind them, Mary was pinning him to the door, her lips against his. She poured out the _thank you_ she hadn't been quite able to say, hands reaching for the hem of his shirt to pull it off of him. His moans spurred her on as she pressed kisses to every inch of exposed skin she could.

"You don't— Mary, you don't—" he managed to gasp out when she sank down to her knees.

"I know," she said, meeting his eyes, hands poised over his zipper. His eyes were wide and full of awe, her heart hammering fast in her chest. "But I want to."

Tom's lips parted and he nodded slowly, granting her permission to carry forward.

For the next few minutes all that existed was him. All that mattered was him, his fingers tangled in her hair, his cries above her the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She only ceased her attentions when his hands left her hair and she heard him say, "Stop." His hand trailed down, fingers brushing against her cheek.

Mary tilted her head up so that Tom met her gaze. "Come here," he said softly, hand leaving her cheek and offered to her. He tugged her up to her feet gently before pressing a languid kiss to her lips, then to her neck. Soon she felt his hands on her again, gradually removing her own clothing, but again all Mary could think about was him, even when he turned to focus on her. Though she gasped against his mouth, unable to truly vocalize anything, it was Tom she thought of and the knowledge that it was his fingers bring her pleasure brought her there even faster.

It wasn't until they were both of the bed, Mary on her back and staring up at the ceiling that it hit her. _I love him_. Of course... how hadn't she seen it before? _I love him._

Tom crawled over top of her, eyes meeting hers. Mary wondered if he could somehow see the revelation in her eyes.

If he did, he said nothing. He simply let his hand trail down her body until he was lifting her leg up. It was Mary who brought their lips together once more, hands fists in his hair. As he entered her Mary let out a shuddery gasp. It hadn't occurred to her until just now how right it felt.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, lips by her ear. He had stopped, frozen.

"Perfectly," she assured him before angling his head so she could keep kissing him. Tom was apparently convinced as he thrust into her, that singular phrase repeated itself over and over again.

* * *

Sleep did not come to her easily. At least an hour had passed since her and Tom had exchanged one last kiss, his eyelids barely open. "Night," he mumbled against her lips before settling down.

"Night," she whispered back. She laid down on her own pillow, hoping she was fall asleep soon... but it hadn't come yet.

_I'm really in love with him. Tom. I'm in love with Tom._

She stole a glance at the man in question, a sheet draped over the lower half of his body. His chest rose and fell steadily. Mary curled up on her side, simply watching him. How had this happened? Or rather... how had it taken her so long to realize it?

Sighing, Mary rolled back onto her back, mind alive. How was it possible for him to sleep so soundly when she felt so restless? Everything had changed now... for her, at least. She wondered if it would mean a change for him as well.

* * *

After only a few hours of sleep and a night full of tossing and turning, Mary rose first when the sky was still dark, stepping into the bathroom to relieve herself and wash her face. When she approached the sink, she inspected herself carefully, just as she had the first morning after. Her eyes seemed brighter, she decided, before washing her face.

She started the shower up a few minutes later, relishing in the feel of the not-too-warm, not-too-cool water pouring down on her. Eyes closed, she relived everything, still in awe. She was in love... with _Tom._ It didn't seem possible and yet, at the same time, who else could it have been? Who else was it supposed to be, when he understood her like no one else?

When Mary reentered the bedroom, towel wrapped around her, the sun had already begun to rise, she found Tom still asleep. He looked so peaceful. He was laying on his back, the sunlight filtering through the blinds casting a golden glow on his face. Did he have any idea how she felt? Did he truly grasp just how important he was to her?

Mary dressed quickly in some work out clothes, hair still wet and thrown into a ponytail. Tom never stirred, so she waited until she reached the hallway before sending him a quick text.

_MARY: I've gone out for a run. I don't know what time I will be back._

Being near him, being confined in this house was too overwhelming at present. It was early enough in the day that Mary suspected not many people would be out, but she grabbed her mask just in case, along with her AirPods and went outside. The air was cool but not unbearably so, and she knew it would feel pleasant once she started. She started up her music, _Valerie_ by Amy Winehouse blasting in her ears before setting off.

It was hard to concentrate on her thoughts, which was a welcome relief. Belatedly, Mary began to realize that perhaps showering beforehand wasn't the smartest option... She wouldn't have to see anyone else the rest of the day, besides Tom and the children... and while Tom had seen her in many worse states than sweaty and disheveled, it wasn't exactly the image of herself she wanted of herself in his mind.

Without really realizing it, Mary found herself in front of the white picket fences of the Bates residence. The sun was beating down on her as she unlatched the gate, stepping into their yard. Mary pulled out her phone, pausing her music to call Anna.

"Hello?"

"Hi," was all she could say.

"Hi, Mary. What's up?"

"I'm your yard right now," said Mary, feeling rather awkward. "And... Well, I'm not going into your house but I wondered if you wouldn't mind talking to me through a window or something?" She closed her eyes, clenching them shut before saying, "I just really need to talk to you—"

"Go to the window by the breakfast nook. There should be a lawn chair in the shed— it's unlocked. Do you want anything to drink?"

Mary couldn't resist smiling. Even in the midst of a pandemic, Anna was the perfect hostess as always. "Do you have any wine?" She joked.

"Not at eight in the morning I don't."

"Very well. I wouldn't mind some water." Between her run and the now bright sun, Mary was feeling even more sweaty and disheveled than before.

"Got it. Check the front door before you go over to the breakfast nook. I'll meet you there."

Mary smiled before slipping her phone back into her pocket and trudging over to Anna and John's garden shed. The lawn chairs were quite dusty, obviously not having been used for some time, but Mary brushed it off easily. A plastic water bottle sat on the front porch, cold to the touch as if it had been sitting in the fridge for her. Mary pressed it to her forehead before walking to the back of the house.

Anna sat in front of the open window, a mug in her hands. "I'm so glad to see you!" She professed, smiling from ear to ear. She looked tired, but happy, which either meant Johnny had been up through the night or she had been working late on her newest book. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too," Mary replied, truly meaning it. Out of all her friends, Anna had been the one who had been around the longest and knew the most about her. "I feel like I have been going insane without you." She made sure she was two meters away from Anna, then backed up even further before setting up the lawn chair.

"I know what you mean," said Anna sympathetically. "Even though we're meant to be staying home, I feel like things have been more crazy than ever with Johnny. I don't know how I'd managed without John." She took a sip of her drink, which Mary knew was a green tea. "At least you have Tom. I'm sure that helps."

Mary had no idea how to tell Anna that Tom was the problem... or rather, that her feelings for him were. How was she supposed to tell Anna that they had been sleeping together, then that they had started _sleeping together,_ and now that she was in love?

Thankfully, her silence clued Anna in. "Oh, dear... did you two have a fight? Is this what it's about?" She rested her chin in her hand, looking at Mary inquisitively.

"No..." Mary bit her bottom lip. "It's more difficult than that."

If she didn't already have Anna's attention, Mary was confident this was the phrase to draw her in. "You can tell me... if you need to."

Mary strained back, thinking of where she should start. "A few months ago, George and Sybbie grew tired of sharing a room," began Mary, staring down at her lap as she began recounting the tale.

* * *

By the time she had finished, it was confident to say Anna was gobsmacked. She had listened to Mary talk for quite some time, only jumping in to clarify certain details, such as, " _Wait, was this pre-COVID or after everything...?_ " or " _What about Lucy?_ "

There was a moment of silence before Anna finally spoke. "Oh, Mary..."

"Am I bad person?" asked Mary, eyes suddenly filling with tears.

"No, of course not!"

"I don't feel like one," she said, deciding to clear that up for Anna as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "But then suddenly I remember Sybil and Lucy and I just wonder—"

"You and Tom have always been close," Anna said, setting her tea on the table. She hadn't been drinking for quite some time, not after she had accidentally choked when Mary told her about the more physical side of things. "It's not a surprise to me, not really, that there's something more there."

_But there isn't supposed to be_ , thought Mary stubbornly. It was wrong... For heaven's sakes, he was her brother-in-law! How could she have let this happen? How were things supposed to return the way they had once been?

"It's just me," she whispered, hardly loud enough for Anna to hear, moving her foot across the grass, watching the individual blades squashed down by her weight and unfurl.

"What do you mean?"

"It's only my end." Mary looked up her eyes to face Anna. "He doesn't... I know he doesn't feel the same way."

"You mean he's said that?"

"Not in as many words."

Anna let out a sigh. "Then in what words?" Mary suspected she was rather regretting not charging Mary for her advice. At this point, Anna was essentially her unpaid therapist.

"He's told me a million times that he's never going to get married. That he doesn't want a serious relationship." Each word was bitter in her mouth.

"He could still change his mind," Anna pointed out, looking a little more relaxed. She reached for her tea but didn't drink it, likely holding it for the sake of warming her hands. The sun had drifted behind some clouds, making it cooler. "Since he was with Lucy, it seems to indicate he's given some thought to moving on. And... I know I don't know Tom nearly as well as you do, but I don't see him as the sort of person who just sleeps with someone. Not that there's anything wrong with that," Anna added hastily, "but considering you're his best friend... he must feel something more."

"Well, it's hardly as if he can go out and meet someone else at the moment," Mary pointed out glumly. "I'm just... conveniently there."

Anna made a scoffing noise, which startled Mary. "Who are you and what have you done with Mary Crawley?" She said, almost disapprovingly. Her eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, but Mary could tell she wasn't truly upset. "It isn't like you to put yourself down like this!"

That wasn't entirely true. Mary knew she was a prickly person, even at the worst of times, and even difficult to be around. Just last night, she'd been complaining about her personality. Still, it was only that she took issue with... She never once had doubted her confidence to capture the attentions of a man... aside from Matthew. Mary grimaced once she realized that it seemed she had a type: men who weren't falling at her feet.

"I'm trying to be realistic," said Mary with a sigh.

"Well, you aren't," said Anna, crossing her arms. "It isn't out of the realm of possibility that Tom might feel the same way."

Mary said nothing but privately disagreed. She hadn't heard Tom all those times... "Perhaps," she finally acquiesced when she realized Anna was waiting for some sort of reply.

"You should talk to him about it," she urged. "Really."

Mary couldn't think of a worse idea. This whole thing between them was complicated enough as it was and Mary didn't dare to make it even more complex. After all... They were trapped in the same house with one another for the foreseeable future. The last thing she wanted was to completely ruin things. The time for that had been earlier on... and now it was really too late.

"I'll think about it," she said, simply to placate Anna. She rose to her feet. "Thank you for listening to me... and for the water."

"It's no problem," said Anna as Mary began folding up the chair. "I'm happy to help anyway I can."

Mary hesitated before asking, "Will you please keep this to yourself? I know you don't like keeping things from John, but—"

"It's alright. You don't need to worry." Anna smiled at her. "He understands that I can't share everything with him."

Mary returned the smile. "Thank you, Anna. Really."

* * *

When Mary finally arrived home, she found herself returning at the end of breakfast. "I saved some for you," said Tom, gesturing to the pans in the kitchen. "I didn't know if you'd eaten yet."

It was the little things like that that seemed to make her overwhelmed by the sheer weight of her adoration. "Thank you," said Mary, reaching for the empty plate on the counter and adding the French toast to her plate.

George and Sybbie went upstairs to work to their homework (something Mary was uncertain would actually work), leaving her and Tom at the table.

"Are you busy today?"

"Not really. A couple things, but nothing like it has been." Mary nodded, sipping at her tea.

They chatted with one another for some time, Anna's words playing in the back of her mind all the while. Maybe she was wrong... Should she say something? Or would she only ruin everything? She wished she could read his mind, to know if her words would be well received or if he would recoil in horror.

Her plate was empty and Tom was rising to his feet. "I should probably go take my shower," he mused aloud.

Without any thought if it was wise or not, Mary asked, "Do you need any help?"

At once she knew she had made a mistake. Silence fell over them both. Mary wished she should take it back, wincing inwardly. "No," Tom replied after a long while, wearing an odd expression on his face. Then, before Mary could try to convince herself that he hadn't picked up on her true meaning, he said, "Maybe some other time." It was hard to believe another time would come when he all but ran from the table, leaving her behind with her mortification.

Mary buried her face in her hands. God, why has she said that? It was hardly the heartfelt sentiment Anna had suggested, nor even an actual discussion about what was going on between them...

As she gradually returned to reality, Mary couldn't help but feel sullen. Considering his horror, it seemed unlikely he reciprocated her feelings, even in the smallest way. She let out a weary sigh before picking herself up and carrying on with her day.

Blessedly, Tom has elected to ignore her embarrassing moment from earlier. She had half dreaded he would bring it up, thinking about her blunder as she typed up an email full of typos to Thomas. When he rejoined her, however, he simply down beside her on the couch. After a moment or two, he asked, "Do you need me to go somewhere else?" Mary lifted your head head, wary and suspicious. He nodded to her computer. "You're working, aren't you? Do I need to go elsewhere?"

"Oh! No, not at all!" Mary was flustered, turning back to her laptop. "It's just an email to Thomas. Website things. He needs a response from Papa about the virtual tours. I don't know if it will work, to be honest."

Tom frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't know if you've met Papa, but he's not good at this sort of thing," said Mary, which caused him to chuckle. "I'd been planning on doing it, just to ensure everything would turn out alright, but I can hardly go to Downton now..."

As she continued talking, it was clear her blunder had been forgiven. There was no lingering tension, simply little comments and jokes... all the easiness they had always enjoyed with one another.

It was clear to Mary that he was oblivious to how she felt... which was a good thing. It meant that perhaps at some point, she could slowly wean herself off of it... perhaps once they switched back to having separate bedrooms. This was something she could conquer, something she could get over...

But when the night ended with her gasping for breath and Tom panting beneath her, hearts racing, Mary slowly resigned herself to her fate: this wasn't going anywhere.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I really do appreciate it!
> 
> For readers who are dying to know what is going on with Tom: good news! We'll finally get some insight on what's going on with him... but probably not that way you are expecting!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Mary didn't notice anything strange at first. Everything was normal... well, as normal as they could be during a pandemic and now that she was in love and sleeping with her dead sister's almost husband.

Maybe she should stop thinking of him as that, Mary mused as she helped him chop up vegetables for dinner. The pieces of carrot and celery were much too large, abnormally shaped, but still edible so that counted as a success in her books. No... maybe she just ought to simply think of him as her best friend? That starved away the illicit nature of it all, didn't it? And didn't everyone say your partner should be your best friend...?

"Dammit!" Mary cursed, dropping the knife and clutching her middle finger.

"What's wrong?" Tom sound frantic.

"I cut my _fucking_ finger, that's what's wrong!" hissed Mary, bent over. She continued swearing, even when Tom wrapped an arm around her and lead her to a chair.

"Let me see it," he said. Mary held up her bloody finger, somehow managing to smirk in spite of the pain when she realized the rude gesture she was making. Tom let out a small laugh to himself, even as he took her bleeding hand in his, inspecting it carefully. "Well, it's a mess now, but it doesn't look like it's too serious. Just put some pressure on it. Here." He pressed a dish towel on her finger. She winced but couldn't deny that, even now, she liked the feeling of his hand holding hers.

"I suppose the vegetables are going to need to be thrown away now," sighed Mary, the pain still pulsating in her finger but nowhere near as intense. So much for edible food for once...

"Unless you want our children to ingest your blood, I'll say we have to," Tom agreed with good humor. He rose back to his full height, walking back over to the counter.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to make such a mess." She stared down at the dishcloth, stained with scarlet.

"Mary, it's okay. Accidents happen. I'm just glad it's not serious." Tom scraped the vegetables into the trash and sat the cutting board and knife into the sink. "It won't take me that long to chop up some more."

Still, Mary felt like such a nuisance to him, watching mutely as he did the cooking all of his own. Once Mary was confident the bleeding stopped, she went upstairs to the bathroom to wash her finger and place a bandage and some antibacterial cream on it. Now that it had stopped, she could see it wasn't terribly deep, though it still hurt. She wondered if it would leave a mark on her, a scar to remind her of eternity of her folly.

When she came down, Tom was sautéing the vegetables in a pan... only the scent made her feel nauseated. Knowing he hadn't seen her reentering the kitchen, Mary ducked out, practically staggering to the back door and onto the back porch, gulping in the cool air to make her mouth stop watering. George and Sybbie took no notice of her appearance and Mary sat on one of chairs on the deck, staring out at the sunset. It was a beautiful sight, but Mary couldn't bring herself to think about it.

 _Maybe it was the blood loss_ , she told herself to excuse her momentary nausea, though logically Mary knew it wasn't substantial enough to induce that kind of reaction. She frantically googled symptoms of COVID-19, double checking to make sure nothing lined up. She was calmed once she determined it likely wasn't but still left reeling until Tom called them in for dinner.

"Is your finger alright?" He asked, eyes drifting down to said finger, lingering outside on the patio as the children raced into the house.

Mary nodded. "I just— Well, I didn't want to be a bother. I thought I'd keep an eye on George and Sybbie."

"You could never be that." Mary was disarmed by the quickness of his statement but had no time to process it before Tom was saying, "But at least you got to watch the sunset. It's probably a prettier sight than me in the kitchen."

Mary smiled but found she couldn't agree. There was no point in pretending now that she wasn't wildly attracted to him. He had slowly went from just being Tom to one of the world's most handsome men. Even harmless celebrity crushes like Chris Evans had started paling in comparison. She would take him over the most gorgeous sunset any day.

Perhaps it was selfish, but she didn't tell Tom about feeling ill, even as she pulled him close to her that night, wrapping her legs around his hips. He was like a drug, something she had become addicted to. The thought of not kissing him, not touching him for one night, was too much bear... and she wasn't alone in her urgency. She needed him and she needed him to know she needed him, even though she could never say it with words.

* * *

Sybbie's birthday was celebrated in the middle of quarantine with cake, ice cream, gifts ordered from Amazon, and a drawing from George. Many of her presents were for her new room, which she was having fun decorating. She was delighted by the celebration, only sad that she couldn't be with all the others she loved. Mama and Papa (finally) figured out how to use Zoom and gave her special birthday greeting. Granny called, promising that Isobel would drop off their gifts on the doorsteps, which turned out to be some sweets (baked by Isobel) and an antique music box from Granny that Mary was certain had been in the family for generations. Edith texted Tom and said that a gift would be coming in the mail in a few days and asked him to tell her happy birthday.

It wasn't until Mary was glancing through her calendar on her phone to determine the date of the delivery that the dots connected. _Start of period_? was on May 10— five days ago.

She tried not to panic. Her reproductive system was nothing if not unreliable and it wasn't the first time she had been late. They had been careful, using protection every time... It was probably nothing and she would feel silly for overthinking things in a couple days time. Nevertheless, after a day or so of internally panicking when her period still hadn't arrived and she couldn't remember one for last month, either, Mary volunteered to do the grocery shopping on Saturday. "You did it last time," she reminded Tom, much to his surprise, and it was settled.

Mask on, sunglasses covering her eyes, and a trolley full of food, Mary made her way into the pharmaceutical area. There they were... next to the condoms, ironically enough. Mary grabbed three pregnancy tests, dumped them in with the rest of her things, and went to check out.

Knowing Tom would insist upon helping her, Mary bagged the tests separately from the groceries and shoved them into her purse as she loaded the groceries into the car. She tried to act as normal as possible, pretending nothing was amiss even though she was beside herself with worry. As she drove home, Mary tried to remind herself to keep calm. There no sense in getting worked up when she didn't even know what was going on. Besides, it was an infinitesimal chance anyway... they had been taking the necessary precautions and knowing her luck, she would get her period in a couple days and feel like the idiot she was.

Tom helped her bring the groceries in (just as she knew he would), telling her about what George and Sybbie had done while she was away. Mary tried to pay attention, really she did, but she was so worried about thoughts of a possible third child that she couldn't concentrate on the ones she already had. At any rate, she knew she couldn't handle the suspense for much longer, so she got herself a massive glass of water and proceeded to chug it. When Tom gave her a strange glance, she smiled and said, "All that shopping made me rather parched."

It sounded flimsy to her ears, but he grinned. "You're out of practice. You'll have to stretch your legs before all the shops reopen."

Mary smiled wanly, drinking more of her water. When the first glass wasn't enough, she refilled it, drinking with much less enthusiasm. Tom joked, "At least you're staying hydrated."

It wasn't until the glass was three fourths empty that Mary finally felt the urge to go. She dismissed herself, saying something about taking a nap (which lead to another joke from Tom about the groceries wearing her out) before hurrying up the stairs, purse grasped in her hands.

Mary was practically dancing as she tore open the packaging. Her hands shook as she took the test out of the box, wondering why she thought it had been a good idea to drink two large cups of water...

The waiting was by far the worst part. Mary sat on the edge of the tub, checking her phone idly while her eyes kept checking the timer she had set. Once it went off, Mary let out a sigh of relief and crossed the bathroom, picking up the test from its perch on the sink.

It clattered to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth. No... no, this couldn't be... Mary fell to the floor, legs too shaky to support herself any longer. The test sat inches away. Mary leaned over, trembling hands picking it up again. Two lines stared back at her.

"Fuck," whispered Mary. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" She was fairly certain this wasn't the reaction she should be having when learning she was pregnant with the child of the man she loved, but she doubted anyone would protest that this was inopportune timing and less than ideal circumstances. "Oh my God... oh _shit_."

After a minute of sitting on the floor, silent save for a few whispered curses, Mary pulled out her phone again. Her finger hovered and shook over Anna's contact information... she couldn't begin to think of who else she could tell, besides Tom, but she wasn't sure she could handle that at present.

She pressed the phone to her ear as it rang. How far along was she? It couldn't be that much... this hadn't been going on for long at all... they hadn't even been sleeping together a full two months...

Tears burned in her eyes. How was she going to tell Tom? Would he even want a baby with her? She was certain this hadn't been what he had signed up for... He didn't even want her, so why would he want her baby? This only a purely physical thing to him...

"Hello?" Anna's voice said on the other end.

"Anna?" Her voice was thick. There was a lump in her throat.

"Mary, what is it? Is something the matter?"

"I— I'm—" _I'm pregnant_ , she thought but all that came out were heaving sobs. It was as if all the stress, all her fears from the past couple of days had erupted in this moment. What was she supposed to do?

"Mary? Mary, please tell me what's wrong?"

Mary tried to choke the words out but they were unintelligible. All she could think about was how distant the future seemed... what would Tom do? Would he want to stay here with her? Live with her and George? Or would they only see each other every other week, passing their child off back and forth to one another? She doubted he'd leave them high and dry like Michael Gregson had done to Edith, but there was no guarantee he would wish to be as involved as he was now. This has succeeded in making their already complicated entanglement all the more complex.

Mary didn't even realize Anna had hung up, not until her phone fell onto her lap. She supposed she must have given her poor friend a fright— hopefully she could explain later, once the tears had died down...

There was pounding on the door. "Mary? Mary, what's wrong?"

Oh, God... it was Tom! She wasn't ready to see him right now, she was in no fit state to explain things to him. "No," she cried out, the only word she could form. "No, please—"

But the door opened anyway. Mary didn't have enough time to hide the pregnancy test, merely staring up his blurry figure, vision clouded by unshed tears. She was sure looked a fright. Tom dropped down the floor, concerned. He took her face in his hands gently, staring into her eyes. She realized this was the most intimate thing they had done outside of bed since their relationship had progressed. "Mary, what's wrong? Anna called— she was worried about you. Please tell me," he whispered.

There was no sense in hiding it from him... not now. Mary managed to control her sobs, just for a moment, before reaching for the test, which had landed a few inches from her. She held it up wordlessly, letting his hands leave her face and take it from her. She couldn't bear to look...

"Oh, Mary," he finally said, letting it fall back onto the floor as he pulled her into a crushing hug. Mary continued to cry, but she felt so much better as he murmured, "It's okay. It'll be okay, I promise. It's alright."

Once her tears subsided, Mary didn't dare let herself leave his grasp— and blessedly, Tom didn't seem to want to let her go. His hands were stroking her hair, rubbing her back, her head tucked under his chin.

It took a long while before Mary said, "There's false positives sometimes. I— I might not be..." She couldn't say it.

"I've heard of that before," said Tom. "Do— do you need me to buy some more? Or did you get enough at the store?" When Mary shook her head, his grip on her tightened. "I suppose I should have guessed something was up when you volunteered to go grocery shopping. Normally I have to force you into the car."

"I thought adding _pregnancy test_ to the shopping list might arouse suspicion," she said, amazed they could still joke like this even though things had changed irrevocably between them. Then again, things had already changed before this... though now there was to be a living, breathing reminder of this period in their lives.

Tom laughed weakly before drawing away from her. "How about we go somewhere a little more comfortable than the bathroom floor?" Mary mourned his loss of touch instantly, but when he held out his hand, she took it, rising to her feet. She wondered where he would lead her, relieved that it was only to the bed. She didn't want to deal with questions from the children, who would be too young to understand any of this. Tom folded her into his embrace again and she gladly let him hold her. There was little fight left in her now; she was too exhausted and still reeling from her discovery.

"Why did you call Anna?" He finally asked.

Mary tensed up. "To tell her."

"Why not me?" There was no accusation in his voice. "Didn't you think I'd want to be the first to know?"

"Not really," admitted Mary, eyes clenching shut. She wasn't surprised when he pulled away from her. She supposed she deserved it.

"Why would you say that?" She felt his hands cup her jaw, the callused fingers brushing against her smooth skin. She dared to open up her eye, regretting saying it when she saw the hurt look on his face. "Mary... we're going to have a _baby_..."

 _A baby_. She didn't bother pointing out about the false positives again. "Yes, but I doubt this is what you wanted."

Tom didn't say anything. She let her eyes fall shut again. He couldn't even deny it... "Well, it's happened."

Mary nodded mutely. If it weren't for the fact she was confident she had no tears left to cry, she was certain this would have been enough to set her off again. She stared down at the grey duvet, her long pale fingers, her rounded cuticles.

His hand rested on top of hers. Mary looked up in surprise. "I'll be here for you. You don't have to worry about that." He lifted up her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. "We've raised two kids together already. This won't be any different."

 _What do you mean it won't be any different?_ Mary wanted to scream. _It's already different!_ She didn't voice these thoughts aloud, instead resorting to humor. "Don't count your chickens... they're still young yet. If George is anything like me, we're going to have a very moody teenager on our hands." _Probably two_ , she thought, the hand Tom wasn't holding subconsciously falling to her still flat stomach.

Tom chuckled. "And the less said of my teenage years, the better. Hopefully Sybbie'll take after her mother."

"I don't know if that's much better," said Mary, wryly raising an eyebrow. "She was sneaking out late at night to get drunk with her friends and vandalizing public property, remember?" As lovely and sweet as her little sister had been, she had also given Mama and Papa a run for their money. If she disagreed with the rules, she had no qualms breaking them.

"So the only chance we might have is thanks to Matthew, then?" asked Tom, grinning ear to ear. When Mary nodded, he laughed. Mary wondered what sort of hellraiser was in her stomach right now... a combination of hers and Tom's genetics didn't exactly bode well for the peace and serenity they had enjoyed thus far with George and Sybbie, who had thus far taken after their less fiery parents. Still, the idea didn't frighten nearly as much as it had a short while ago. Squeezing her hand before he dropped it, Tom rose to his feet. "Speaking of those two, I'd better check on them. Make sure they haven't set fire to anything." When all Mary could manage was a weak smile, he promised, "I'll be back soon," before leaving the room.

Mary collapsed onto her pillows, no longer able to bear the weight of her own body. On the one hand, this wasn't going as poorly as she had feared... but on the other hand, it was hardly the stuff of her dreams. There had been no talk of what they were to one another, of his feelings for her, of what this would be like in the future when there was no pandemic trapping them together. She had no idea what she would tell her parents, their friends...

Anna! Mary picked up her phone hurriedly, now certain she wouldn't bawl her eyes out, calling her friend back. She was sure Tom was supposed to let her know what was going on but had forgotten to tell her.

"Mary? Is everything alright?" Poor Anna sounded absolutely frantic when she picked up.

"Oh, Anna, I'm so sorry. I must have scared you."

"As long as I know you're alright, that's all I care about."

"It— it is." She wasn't sure if things really were alright or if it would always be alright... but Tom had promised her it would be. She would have to trust him. "I... I don't know how to say this."

"Say what?" Anna sounded near frantic.

Mary's eyes flickered to the door. "I... I'm pregnant."

There was a gasp on the other end. "Oh my God!"

"Yeah," said Mary awkwardly. Things weren't this way when she learned she was pregnant with George... probably because at the time it was a planned pregnancy with her husband and not the result of an affair with her brother-in— no, her _best friend_.

"I— Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Mary managed with a weak laugh, relaxing slightly. As sweet as Anna was, she hadn't been anticipating such a welcoming response. All her fears regarding the direction of this conversation faded away.

"Does Tom know?" Before Mary could clarify about exactly what Anna was talking about, she asked, "About the baby?"

"He does now. He didn't know until he barged into the bathroom and found me crying on the floor with a pregnancy test, but—"

"Mary, I'm so sorry! I thought— well, you sounded so upset and I wanted to make sure you weren't hurt or—"

"It's fine, Anna. More than fine," assured Mary. "In fact, I'm willing to bet I'd still be crying if he hadn't showed up." His comfort had meant more than words could describe. At least now there weren't a million _what-ifs_ bouncing around in her head, speculating how he would react. In fact, she felt somewhat poorly for even doubting him for a second.

Anna let out what Mary assumed was a relieved sigh on the other end of the phone. "So... did he take it well?"

"He took it far better than I did." Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed. "I was such a mess... I was too shocked to be embarrassed about crying."

"I'm sure... I mean, you weren't— that is, you weren't trying..."

"God, no!" exclaimed Mary, sitting up now. "I'm not sure how it happened... we were so careful."

"Well, it's never 100% effective," said Anna. "But... are you happy?"

Mary blinked. "I don't know. I mean... I suppose I am." Much to her surprise, tears were already welling her eyes again. "This isn't how I would have wanted it but... I'm happy. In a way."

"Well, then I'm pleased for you." She could hear Anna's smile on the other end. "I hope you don't mind me taking over the call but... I'm actually pregnant, too."

Mary's jaw fell open. "Oh, don't apologize! Anna, that's wonderful!" Suddenly her problems went away. "How long have you known?"

"A few weeks now."

"And you didn't tell me?" Mary teased.

"I haven't told anyone. Well, except for John. But he doesn't count." They both laughed. "I probably wouldn't have told you so soon, but... well, it seemed like the right time. They'll be the same age!"

"I'm so pleased for you!" Something moved in the doorway and Mary saw Tom, lingering in the hall. She motioned him to come in.

"I'm happy for you! And I hope things work out for you... have you told him how you feel?"

Mary was seized by icy fear. He couldn't have possibly overheard her... "Not yet!" said Mary brightly, determined to act as if everything was alright. "Actually, Tom's in the room right now! Do you want to speak to him?"

"Oh my God! Uh, no, that's fine! I'll let you go now!" Poor Anna sounded panicked. "It was great talking to you and congratulations— again!"

"Thank you, Anna," said Mary not taking her eyes off Tom, who was now settling down on his side of the bed. "And congratulations to you, too."

There was a slight hesitation. "Do you mind if I tell John?"

Mary sighed. They would have to tell everyone eventually... and Anna didn't like keeping secrets from her husband. Besides, John was hardly a blabbermouth. "Go ahead. I was already going to tell Tom."

Anna let out a relieved laugh. "Thanks, Mary. Love you!"

"Love you, too." She hung up the phone, turning to Tom. "Anna," she informed him.

"Ah. I take it you've told her our news?" His eyes fell to her stomach.

Mary nodded before asking, "You don't mind, do you? I was going to tell her anyway... and I didn't want her worrying about me."

There was a silence. Mary turned to Tom, who looked pensive. When he saw her imploring look, he said quickly, "I don't mind. Anna's your best friend. Apart from me." He paused before asking, "Did she know? About us?" Mary nodded. "So she wasn't surprised?"

"Oh, she was surprised," clarified Mary, certain Anna had been flustered. "But John's in for a hell of a shock." Tom blinked. "You know she can't keep a secret from him for too long... and I figured it was only fair, since I was going to tell you that Anna's pregnant, too."

Tom's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh wow." He blinked twice before saying, "Maybe there's something in the village water supply."

"Or maybe it's just a coincidence," countered Mary, leaning back on the pillows. "They've been trying for awhile. They've always wanted a big family."

He seemed to ruminate on this for a moment or two. "How did it happen?" Tom asked, gazing down at her stomach.

Mary turned and gave him a look. "I'm sorry sex ed has failed you."

"I didn't mean _that_ ," Tom said, blushing fiercely. It was rather cute, in a way, watching his cheeks and ear turn pink. She was surprised, after all that had occurred between them, that he would still be bashful about this. "I meant... well, we were using protection."

"Obviously it didn't quite work. It's only 99% effective, remember?"

"I've seen _that_ episode of _Friends_ enough times to remember that," he said, smirking slightly before it faded. "I just never thought it would happen to us."

"Well, it had to happen to somebody." Mary looked up at the ceiling, hands resting now on her stomach. She still wasn't quite sure how to process things yet. A part of her was still shocked by how well he was handling this.

"Why did you tell Anna? About us?"

This was dangerous territory... and given that today was enough an emotional rollercoaster without her complicated emotions, Mary didn't want to rock the boat too much more. "It slipped out. I didn't mean it to," she lied.

"It slipped out?"

"Yes." She rolled over on her side. "I somehow never mentioned our... unorthodox sleeping arrangements until I went to see her the other day... and when she asked if there was anything more, I felt like I couldn't lie. Not really." She shrugged.

Tom didn't seem wholly convinced but let it go... and for that she was grateful.

* * *

A couple hours passed. Tom stayed with her, only getting up once or twice to check on Sybbie and George and once to bring her up some lunch. "I've told them you're having a rest and that they aren't to disturb you," he explained. "They've built themselves some kind of a fort downstairs, so I think it's safe to say they'll be entertained for a while."

Mary nodded. "Thank you." As much as she loved and adored them, Mary was too overwhelmed to deal with the children at present. She supposed if this was really happening, as it seemed to be, then they would have to be told at some point, but she didn't want to think about that. Not yet.

For the most part, Tom remained quiet, a silent support. Mary was grateful for it, not quite ready to sit and talk any longer. It was a relief to not put on a show or to try and think of what to say, allow to simply absorb things at her own pace. Finally, Mary rose to her feet once again, walking into the bathroom without a word to Tom. When she opened the second box, it was with much less urgency and significantly less fear.

When she reappeared, Tom was sitting upright. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What did the second test say?"

"I don't know yet. I took them both, just to save ourself some suspense. It takes a few minutes," said Mary, setting another timer on her phone. "We'll have to wait."

When the the timer went off, Tom followed her into the bathroom, trailing after her. Now that they would get their confirmation— their real confirmation— she was afraid... not that she really would be having his baby, but that it hadn't been real. That she wasn't pregnant after all. It was a stupid thing to hope for, considering their circumstances, but Mary wanted this baby... she wanted _Tom's_ baby.

She held up the tests. Two lines.

"Well," said Tom, taking them from her, inspecting it, and setting them down, "there we have it."

"Yes," murmured Mary. Their fate was sealed. "I guess we do."

* * *

As they wished George and Sybbie a good night, it really seemed to hit Mary. There would soon be another child in this house, one that was hers and Tom's. George and Sybbie would have a brother or sister...

Dwelling too deeply on that only starting a slow accumulation of worries about the addition to the house and all of it, so Mary pushed it to the back of her mind. She supposed it was a good thing they hadn't started building yet. They would have never planned for this.

Tom was thinking about it, too, though he didn't say as much. She could tell by the way he was carrying himself, the fleeting moments when he would glance over at her. She wondered if he was nervous too... if he was, he hadn't really shown it. Mostly he had been the one keeping her sane all day when she got too much into her own head.

It was strange, going to bed without even wondering if something might happen. Mary felt rather uncertain about where things stood between the two of them. It wasn't as if they would make another baby but she didn't feel quite like doing anything tonight. Neither did Tom, apparently, as they laid down in bed just to... well, sleep.

Mary wondered when he would find out how she felt since it seemed almost inevitable now. They would spend at least another eighteen years together and at some point, her secret wouldn't be so secret anymore... not if they were supposed to live in such close proximity. She knew how to keep ironclad control over her own emotions, but she was also not very patient and likely to blurt things out, even at her own detriment.

It took ages for Mary to finally fall asleep but once she did, she was awake again only two hours later, the sky still dark. She blinked, unable to see anything... but she felt a hand, resting on her stomach. She smiled softly before laying her own hand across it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I’m so glad you’re enjoying this story!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Tom wanted to drive her to the doctor's appointment but Mary insisted he stay home. "If you come, we'll need to bring the children, and then we'll have to tell them unless we want to lie."

Tom was rather put out. "Why can't we tell them now? They'll have to learn sooner or later."

"It's too soon! I don't even know how far along I am, but it can't be too far... and if I— if I lose the baby, I don't want them to be upset."

Tom hadn't seemed to consider that. Mary only had because her mind always jumped to the worst case scenarios and the possibility of losing their baby already terrified her. He eyed her stomach with concern. "Do you... do you think...?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I'm going to the doctor. To find out what is going on for sure and make sure he or she is healthy." Tom seemed morose... she so badly wanted to close the gap between them with a kiss but suspected such a gesture would be unwelcome. Their lips hadn't met in days, not since she had learned of her pregnancy, which had seemed to superimpose a sort of celibacy. She wasn't a fan of it, but she wasn't really sure if Tom was still interested in sex with her now. Everything had changed. "I'll tell you everything. I promise. And if I'm far enough along, we'll have an ultrasound!"

This seemed to cheer him up slightly. However, when the day of the appointment came, Tom was near neurotic. "Do you have your mask?"

"Yes."

"And your gloves?"

Mary grimaced just thinking about the bright yellow monstrosities Tom wore when he was cleaning the dishes. They didn't have any surgical gloves but Tom was adamant that she cover every inch of herself as a preventive measure. "Yes," Mary replied wearily.

"Hand sanitizer? Wet wipes?"

Mary had to use an enormous amount of self restraint to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "In the car."

Tom beamed. "Good. Please stay safe, all right?"

Her annoyance ebbed away in that single

moment. "I'll do everything in my power," she assured him. Now felt like the time for a kiss... even just on the cheek... but nothing happened. And nothing would happen. "I'll see you later," she said, smiling before leaving the house and hopping into the car.

It was an early morning appointment— planned specifically so the children would hopefully never realize Mary had been away. Mary bit back a groan of exasperation when she saw her father driving down the opposite side of the road, waving out the window at her. He was supposed to be staying home, dammit, he was most at risk! Mary gritted her teeth before realizing that now she would be subjected to questions about where she was going... At least she had plenty of time to think up a convincing lie.

Mary checked into Dr. Ryder's office over the phone before entering the building. A nurse lead her back to a room, asking her questions about her cycle and whatnot before Dr. Ryder came to see her.

"It's lovely to see you again, Mary. I understand you believe you're pregnant?"

"Yes," she said, smiling, though she knew he couldn't see it from behind her mask. "I've taken three tests, all of them positive."

"Well, we'll find out for sure today, won't we?" He said cheerfully.

Tests were done and it was determined that her suspicions and the tests at home were correct; Mary was pregnant. "You're about eight weeks along, which means we can do an ultrasound and you can hear the heartbeat," he informed her, much to her delight.

Mary recorded the heartbeat on her Voice Memos app for Tom's benefit, in awe. She wished he could be here to listen to it himself. "Hmm," said Dr. Ryder.

"What? Is something the matter?" Mary's hand instinctively went to her stomach, before hitting the button to stop recording. Already she was protective of this new life forming within her. Was something wrong? She thought about those worries she had expressed to Tom, wondering if she had somehow predicted it.

Dr. Ryder shook his head. "Let's get that ultrasound, shall we?"

While everything was being arranged, Dr. Ryder made small talk with her. "You haven't remarried, have you?" He had seen her since Matthew's death.

Mary shook her head. "Not yet."

"No judgement!" Dr. Ryder said, raising his hands up in the air. "But I take it there is a special man in your life."

Mary nodded, thinking of Tom. Regardless of her own personal fears about her own place in his life, she didn't doubt he would be  
amazing father to their baby. "Yes. He is very special."

"And he's going to be there for you and the baby?"

"Yes, he is."

"That's just what I like to hear," said the doctor, maneuvering the transducer over her stomach. "Look up at the screen."

Mary turned her head. It was a silver toned mess— it had taken Dr. Ryder pointing George out for her to even see anything during her first ultrasound. "Look right here—" said Dr. Ryder, pointing one gloved finger at a grey blob, "and here," gesturing to a second.

Mary frowned. What was it?

"Just as I suspected." He grinned behind his mask. "Congratulations, Mary. You're having twins."

* * *

_Twins._ Mary sat out in the parking lot, unmoving and in shock. She had removed her mask and those horrible gloves ages ago. They were going to have _twins_.

Eyes wide, she stared down at her stomach. How had this happened? _Twins_. When she had thought about how it wasn't possible to make another baby, she didn't realize they already _had_ another baby.

Mary learned her head against the steering wheel. What were they going to do? One baby brought plenty of chaos and changes, but _two_... Groaning, she checked her phone. She had three texts— from Papa, Anna, and Tom.

_PAPA: Saw u just now. Where r u going?_

_MARY: You shouldn't be texting and driving. Or going out in the middle of a pandemic. You have preexisting health conditions._

She would worry about coming up with a lie later. He needed a ticking off.

_ANNA: How did the appointment go? xx_

_MARY: Well. There is definitely a baby and we're healthy! xx_

She could tell Anna the big news later— Dr. Ryder said twins didn't always show up in the first ultrasound. She could announce it later— after she had a chance to tell Tom first.

_TOM: Everything okay?_

_MARY: Yes. I'll be home soon._

Twins. They were going to have twins. With a shaky breath, Mary started up the car.

* * *

Sybbie and George were awake once she arrived home. "Where were you?" Sybbie demanded almost as soon as she came through the front door. "We aren't allowed to go out!"

"I know, darling," said Mary. "I had to go to a doctor's appointment." Tom met her eye, seeming surprised by her honesty. Mary shrugged minutely, figuring that she might as well keep things as close to the truth as possible.

"Do you have COVID?" George practically screeched, backing away from her.

"No, my stomach was bothering me. That's all." Mary figured that her stomach _would_ be bothering her soon enough... "I have some medicine now to stop it." Mary sat a bottle of prenatal vitamins on the counter, a purchase from the chemist's. "I'm alright. I promise." She planned on telling her father the same story— the last thing he would suspect was pregnancy.

Once the children had gone off to entertain themselves, Mary made eye contact with Tom before beckoning him towards the stairs. When they were in the safety of their bedroom, Mary blurted out, "Twins!"

Tom's eyes widened. "What?"

"We're having twins!" She reached for her purse, pulling out the copy of the ultrasound. "See!" She jabbed at what she assumed were the babies... though truthfully she wasn't sure.

Tom looked like he was going to faint. "Twins?"

"Twins!"

"I've got to sit down," said Tom, staggering over to the bed before flopping down on his back. Mary joined him but she remained upright.

"Are you alright?" She asked finally.

"Yeah," said Tom. "It's just... Twins."

"Twins."

They sounded like parrots, just repeating it over and over. All Mary could think was they were going to have to buy double of everything... and have double the trouble. Sybbie and George, even at their sweetest, could be a handful. What would they do with two that were like her and Tom?

"Well... at least we have practice with two babies at once," Tom pointed out, pushing himself to an upright position.

" _You_ do. I just laid here."

"And you can do it again right after you've given birth," Tom assured.

Mary was still astonished that he was still imagining himself _here_. Obviously she hadn't expected Tom to abandon her, not completely... but she didn't expect him to be so enthusiastic about living with her, now that things would never be normal between them again... "No. I'll help this time. As long as..." She couldn't bear to finish the sentence. If something were to happen to Tom... well, then she really wouldn't make it back to the land of the living. Losing one man she loved was bad enough.

Tom turned to look at her. "Nothing will happen to you," he whispered. "You— you were fine with George."

Mary realized what she had said. "I was thinking about you," she said, without thinking about what she was saying. She cursed herself the moment the words came out of her mouth. She might as well have confessed her love right there and then!

Tom didn't seem to comprehend the gravity of her admission. His fearful expression softened, Adam's apple bobbing as he reached for her hand. "I'll be by your side the whole time... even in the months leading up to it. I'll stay home so I can drive you there... and then I won't leave."

Mary turned away, not wanting him to see her tears. God, she wasn't even that far along and she kept crying at the drop of a hat. Unable to say anything, she squeezed his hand. _Thank you_.

"At least we have two cribs already," Mary said once she composed herself. "And I saved most of George's clothes..."

"I have all of Sybbie's," confirmed Tom. He grinned suddenly before saying, "But something tells me we'll be buying new clothes anyway."

"Of course we will," said Mary, arching an eyebrow. "We can't have them looking shabby, can we?" Tom laughed just before she added, "And depending on the sexes, we may need more..."

"It's 2020, Mary. I don't think it would kill us to dress our baby boys in their sister's clothes," Tom said flatly, but Mary knew he was teasing her.

"Fair point... but who says we're having baby boys? Perhaps we'll have baby girls?" Suddenly, Mary could picture them... two little girls with brown hair, identical and in matching dresses— except Mary would never dress her children in matching outfits, not after all those photo shoots Mama has arranged with her and Edith in identical outfits. The girls vanished.

"Well, we won't know. Not for a while yet... right?"

"Right," answered Mary. "It's still too soon."

He paused. "Do you want to find out? When it's time?"

"I suppose so. It doesn't really matter, not in the grand scheme of things, but it's always fun to find out," said Mary, watching his face carefully. "Do you?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't know... probably." He paused. "We didn't find out. Sybil and I. She didn't want to know. She didn't want our baby imposed by societal expectations so it was all gender neutral."

He spoke as if Mary wasn't aware, but she couldn't help but smile as if she was hearing it for the first time. "Classic Sybil. Always ahead of the rest of us." Mary paused. "Whatever we do, we aren't having a gender reveal. The last thing we need to do is set fire to Downton."

"God, no." They both laughed, Mary's head tipping to the side and her forehead resting on his shoulder. Their hands were still linked together.

* * *

The nausea that had been irritating her steadily increased until it was full blown morning sickness. The first time it happened, she found herself horribly embarrassed as she hunched over the toilet on her knees as Tom rushed in after her. "No," she said in between heaves, the chill from the tile cool against her bare knees. "Get out. I don't want you to see me like this."

But Tom didn't leave. He crouched down behind her, grabbing her hair and holding it while rubbing her back. It made Mary want to cry, both because of how mortifying all this was and because how thoughtful he was being... but mostly the former. In fact, there were some tears in her eyes when she finally slumped over, but she figured that was because of her gag reflex. Tom let her hair go and squeezed her right shoulder before helping her to her feet. Eyes closed and trying to steady her breathing, Mary listened to the sound of running water until Tom padded back over to her with a glass full.

"Thanks," she said finally, gladly rinsing her mouth out. She spat it into the toilet before flushing it, rising to her feet. Tom was still behind her, watching her nervously.

"Are you alright?"

"It's just morning sickness. I'll be fine." She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant before walking over to the sink, grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste. It had happened when she was pregnant with George, of course, and all she had needed to do was adjust her diet accordingly. She was going to be fine. Tom's eyes seemed to linger on her... well, her and her stomach, as if he could look in and see the babies. It made for a less than comfortable experience and as soon as she was done, she said, "I need to get dressed," and rose to her feet.

* * *

George and Sybbie were playing outside as Mary inspected the outside of the house, frowning and trying to determine the best possible place to add on. It was looking more and more likely that businesses would reopen soon and a contractor could be hired to add onto the house. Money wasn't an issue, thankfully, it was simply of where the best location would be.

"I don't know how we're going to add three bedrooms onto this house," she complained once Tom joined her, asking her what she was doing. "The children still need enough room to play outside... unless we added to the second story..."

"Three bedrooms? Is there another baby you haven't told me about?" Tom asked. Even though he was joking, she could hear the slight fear in his voice.

"I doubt the twins will want to share forever," she elaborated. "You and I haven't personally experienced fraternal bliss—" Tom made a face, likely thinking of his occasionally prickly relationship with his brother Kieran, "—and if George and Sybbie can grow tired of one another, then... well." She eyed her stomach. "Knowing our luck, they'll be trying to leave early so they can get away from one another. Nine months in my uterus is a long time to share."

"But why three?" Tom began counting on his fingers. "One for Sybbie, one for George, one each for the babies when they're big enough... and we've already got two rooms."

"I thought you might want to return to your old room once we can add on," said Mary, growing uncomfortable. She hadn't even considered the possibility that Tom was fine with their current sleeping arrangement, especially when he had been so reluctant a few months ago. It was thin ice they were treading but Mary knew she had to ask: "Do you want to stay in my room?"

Tom blinked, lips curving downward. Mary felt disheartened already— _of course he'd say no,_ she chastised herself, feeling like a fool to even believe there was the slightest possibility Tom would want to continue sharing a room and a bed with her. Nothing had happened in days. "Do you want me to?"

"I asked first." Mary knew she sounded like a petulant child but she refused to answer his question— because of course the answer was _yes_.

"It's your room, Mary. I don't want to intrude," Tom said, perfectly diplomatic and annoyingly level. "It'll be convenient for when we need to take care of the babies in the night at the start, but we can easily use George's room for a nursery instead as a place in the middle once they are old enough."

Why couldn't he just give her a straight answer? Mary's hands clenched, jaw tightening before she dismissively said, "I don't give a damn where you sleep, Tom."

She regretted it the moment the words left her lips. Tom looked as if she had slapped him. Still, she found herself remaining silent, even though her mind screamed at her to apologize. Mary turned away, schooling her face into one of indifference. "Let me know when you have an answer," was all she said before walking away, leaving him outside while she went back in the house.

She was the first to go to bed that night, trying to remain confident in herself and her stance. Why should she feel guilty about Tom's indecision? He was the one who needed to make the choice— not her. She wasn't going to make him stay in her bed with her, not if he didn't want to. He went on and on about convenience and whatnot... but she wasn't going to make the decision for him.

Still, she couldn't help but think about the expression on his face. She hated knowing she had upset him. Mary flopped back with a sigh. Why was she like this?

She laid in bed, propped against the pillows when Tom entered the room, looking at his phone... and not at her. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She said nothing, pretending to peer down at her own phone but watching as he shuffled into the bathroom. When the door closed shut, Mary shifted in the bed.

She heard the shower turn on. Mary sighed, kicking at the sheets. Prolonging this was driving her insane. She didn't like having this rift between them... but she didn't know how to express herself without messing things up.

Though... perhaps there was a way to ease things.

It was hidden in the back of her drawers, the tags still on them. Mary had purchased the matching black lace thong and bra for her honeymoon with Henry, but obviously this had never panned out. She changed into them quickly, wishing she had a mirror to check how she looked.

It was a bit of a gamble. They hadn't made love in over a week— which seemed like forever, considering that before learning of the pregnancy they had scarcely gone a day without. A part of her wondered if it was really wise, doing this, but dammit, Mary wanted to fix this between them get things back to the way they had been.

Tom emerged from the bathroom some fifteen minutes later, only to freeze in place. He was silent, eyes roving over Mary, who was sprawled across the bed. She felt both gratified and nervous as the silence stretched on, fairly confident he was appreciating her efforts. "What's this?" He managed finally, voice low.

"Do you like it?" asked Mary, smooth and collected, inwardly desperately hoping the answer was _yes._

"Like it?" Tom let out a shaky laugh. He took a couple steps towards her, causing her heart to start beating faster in anticipation. "I love it."

_Love._ That one word undid her. The veneer of self assuredness slipped away. Coy smile gone, Mary spoke honestly when she murmured, "Why don't you show me?"

Tom wasted no time doing just that. Soon his fingers were caressing her through the fabric as his lips concentrated on her neck. Mary gasped and moved her hips, desperate for friction. It wasn't until he had pulled her underwear down that Mary finally felt her breath coming in short pants, close to ecstasy. She cried out, powerless to stop herself, but Tom muffled the sound by moving his lips to cover hers, kissing her deeply.

Once the aftershocks had stopped and Mary returned to reality, she realized Tom was still fully clothed. Her hands moved down his body to pull his shirt over his head and dip her hand into his sweatpants, seeking him out easily. It was his turn now to moan as Mary stroked him slowly.

"Mary... Mary, stop," Tom said after a long while in a strained voice. Mary ceases her ministrations as Tom tried to steady his breath. He kissed her again, lips trailing down her neck again. When he reached her breasts, he slid his hand behind her to undo the clasp of her bra.

After long last, Tom removed the last of his clothing before sliding into her and Mary was wrapping her legs around his hips. All she could think was _Why did we ever stop doing this?_ Why had they deprived themselves for so long? It seemed mad, in retrospect, to have ever stopped in the first place.

Tom clearly had missed it as much as she had, if his enthusiasm was anything to go by. Even as their hips rocked together, he kissed every inch of her skin available to him. His voice was ragged in her each when he said, "Touch yourself."

Mary didn't need to be told twice. She was already close again. She reached down between them and her breath came in short pants. It didn't take long until they both hit their peak, eyes locked before Tom kissed her again.

When it was over, Mary let her eyes fall shut as Tom practically collapsed on top of her, his head on her collarbone. "I'm sorry," he said against her skin, causing her eyes to open wide again. He had never spoken to her after— not ever. "I'll move in a minute. It just— it took a lot out of me this time."

"Don't apologize," she said without thinking— then, when her brain had caught up, she said, "I quite understand."

She felt him smile and he laughed, his breath warm against her. Mary hesitated, wondering if she would be crossing some line before reminding her that they had crossed that bridge long ago, and then let her hand snake up his back before running her fingers through his hair. Tom relaxed under her touch, letting out what sounded like a contented sigh.

It felt so familiar, Mary mused, as if they had done this a million times before, yet it still thrilled her. Basking in the warmth, she felt more complete than she had in years... as if she was where she was meant to be.

"I think we should tell the children. About the babies," she found herself saying.

Tom lifted his head up, supporting himself with his arms. "Do you mean it?" He sounded so excited, like a child on Christmas morning. When Mary nodded, he lit up. "Can we tell them tomorrow?"

"Of course," she said. He could have asked her anything in that moment and would have agreed. "It's about time they knew." She doubted it would be much longer before they could hide it— there would need to be plenty of changes that took place before they arrived and they would catch on sooner or later.

"Tomorrow morning, then," said Tom, rolling off of her. She mourned the loss of him but said nothing, rolling on her side so she could at least still look at them. Tom met her eyes before reaching out and drawing her closer to him. Mary closed her eyes, embracing the moment.

* * *

The following morning, Mary woke up, face pressed against Tom's chest, and frantic. She rolled over, reaching for her phone, Googling _how to tell your kids youre pregnant._

Tom awoke a short time later, finding her engrossed in a blog post, breaking down the best ways to tell children of certain ages. "Morning," he said, voice pleasantly low.

Mary turned her head, meeting his eye. "Good morning." Then, meeting his eye, she decided to lean over, brushing her lips against his. He didn't pull away... but he didn't exactly respond with any real passion, either. Embarrassed, Mary extricated from him.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," lied Mary, shifting herself. Then, figuring she needed to say something, she said, "I'm just a little worried about telling Sybbie and George today, that's all. I wanted to distract myself." It wasn't exactly a lie... but obviously it wasn't the truth, either. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted their kiss to lead to more...

"You're phone isn't enough?" If she wasn't mistaken, he sounded somewhat pleased... and a little bit smug.

"I'm looking up tips on how to pull it off, actually. So no, it's not really a distraction." She scrolled down, not really reading the words.

He paused. Then, "What are you worried about?" There was no accusation, no irritation, simply curiosity. "You don't think they'll react badly, do you?"

Mary glanced up, turning off her screen off. "A little," she acknowledged. "It's only ever been the four of us." _Except for when it was the five of us,_ she amended, thinking of Matthew's all too brief roles in their respective infancies. "It will be a big adjustment for them." Tom nodded. "And... and I'm sure they'll have questions as well. As to... as to _how_ they are getting another sibling."

"Oh." Tom blinked. "I hadn't even thought of that." He now looked a little green... probably horrified at the idea of giving his daughter _The Talk._

"I don't think we need to delve in too deep," said Mary hastily. She blamed Papa's influence on her upbringing and society in general for her seeming inability to speak lengthily on these topics. "But I want to be prepared."

"Yes. Of course." Tom leaned back now, a somewhat haunted look in his eyes. It was a touch melodramatic but Mary quite understood his predicament. She wasn't about to gloat at him for being such an optimist and not seeing the problems that could arise; it was one of the things she liked most about him. Nevertheless, George and Sybbie needed to know sooner or later and now was as good a time as any.

Still, Mary couldn't resist smiling. "Now you look like you could use a distraction." She'd meant for it to sound teasing, playful at most, but it came out more coquettish than intended.

She didn't have any time to switch to another tone before Tom glanced over, a new look in his eyes. "Suppose I do."

"Then I'm happy to oblige," she uttered before leaning forward to kiss him. This time he kissed her back.

* * *

As predicted, George and Sybbie were full of questions. "Will we have to share a room with them?" Sybbie asked, sounding afraid that she might lose her new sanctuary.

"No," said Mary, relieved by how easy it was to explain this to them. "When the addition is built into the house, we'll make sure there is enough rooms for everyone."

"When will they get here?" was George's question.

"Probably sometime in January," Mary replied. Her due date was on the twentieth of that month but Dr. Ryder had already told her how twins liked coming early. She hoped it wouldn't be too soon— not because she didn't want to meet them, but because with everything going on, she wasn't certain how safe the world would be for a baby. Even though things were looking better now, it wasn't impossible that a second wave could come and they would have to return to an even more restrictive life style.

George let out a groan. Mary was horrified, ready to launch into a speech with a message like _I'll still love you once the babies are here,_ but then George whined, "Next year? But I want to meet them _now_!"

"They aren't ready yet, George," Tom stepped in, and Mary was grateful that he did. "They need to do a lot of growing first. They're just tiny."

George let out a grumble but said nothing more. Sybbie, however, now wondered, "Why are you having babies now?"

Mary steeled herself up, already horrified. Tom looked similarly stunned but managed to say, "You aren't looking forward to having new siblings?"

"I am, but why right now?"

"Well... why not?" Tom said, voice bordering on squeaky. Mary might have laughed if she didn't pity him so. "We're all at home... we'll be able to spend plenty of time with them. Babies need a lot of looking after."

Worried Sybbie might start asking more questions, Mary jumped in with, "Would you two like to see the pictures I have of them?" Without waiting for an answer, she rose to her feet. "I'll go get them."

Thankfully, seeing the babies caused Sybbie to be more excited rather than pessimistic. "That's so weird," she said, though she sounded more in awe than judgemental. "How did they get pictures?"

Mary explained as best as she could, enlightening the children. Halfway through, Mary noticed a curious look on Tom's face.

* * *

Gradually, Mary found herself spending more and more time in the bathroom. It had evolved from morning sickness into morning, afternoon, and early evening sickness. Certain smells would set her off, usually food, which always made her feel terrible when she fled the table after Tom presented her with dinner, especially since he almost always followed after to make sure she was okay. "Your food's fine," Mary assured him, voice shaky as she flushed the toilets. "It's just— the babies—"

"So we'll have two picky eaters?" Tom said, smiling down at her stomach.

"I'm sure once they leave the womb, they'll be less selective," she said before rinsing her mouth out.

However, when four days had passed and Mary was making several trips a day to the bathroom, Tom waited until she was over before saying, "Something's wrong here."

"Don't be melodramatic. It's perfectly normal," Mary said, against her own intuition. She couldn't bear the thought of something being wrong.

He shook his head. "Not like this. Can I have your phone? I want to call your doctor."

"I'm fine," insisted Mary, but after a pathetic little argument, Mary caved. "It's on my nightstand," she told him. "You know the passcode already. His name is Dr. Ryder."

Of course, the doctor wasn't able to respond just yet so they were left to twiddle their thumbs— Mary did a load of laundry and Tom, resigned to the fact it would be a while, sat down and did some work. It wasn't until mid afternoon that Dr. Ryder called back... but by that time Mary had already thrown up again. Even she was willing to admit that something might be wrong, especially when the world didn't quite seem there and her whole body was tired. Tom practically forced her into the bed, ordering her to rest until they had news, and Mary had resignedly accepted her fate.

"I understand Tom's concerned about the frequency of your morning sickness?" said the doctor, who was on speakerphone so Tom could hear.

"Yes," said Mary, rolling her eyes. "I'm on bedrest until you set me free."

"And he is the babies' father, correct?"

"That's right," said Mary, settling against the pillows.

"Alright. Good. I just wanted to check."

After describing her symptoms, Dr. Ryder concluded that thanks to the twins, there was an increase in hormones which was leading to severe morning sickness. "As you know, it will fade away with time, but in cases like this, we don't want to run the risk of dehydration and subsequent hospitalization... especially not in times like this."

"Of course not," said Mary, dreading the thought of going into a hospital right now. That was the last thing they needed.

"I can prescribe you some medication to alleviate the nausea and you can pick it up as soon as possible."

After confirming all the details and hanging up, Tom volunteered to pick up the prescription. "You don't have to do that," insisted Mary.

"I want to... and you need some rest, anyway. I don't want you getting run down."

"Very well," she acquiesced. "I'll stay right here."

Tom smiled at her, reaching out and squeezing her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. "I'll be back soon," he promised her before leaving.

Mary was examining her phone when the door swung open, revealing George and Sybbie. "Hello," said Mary as they both climbed up into her bed. "What brings the two of you here?"

"Daddy said you weren't feeling well," Sybbie informed her, crawling into Tom's side of the bed. "We wanted to see you."

Mary couldn't help but smile. "I'm alright. It's just the babies. Once I get my medicine, I'll feel much better."

Sybbie glared at her stomach. "Why would they do that?" She demanded.

"It's just what happens when you're pregnant. You'll find out for yourself... if you want to, that is," said Mary hastily, knowing Sybil would be disappointed if Mary knew she was pushing stereotypical gender expectations on her daughter.

"I don't want to have a baby! Not if they make you throw up!" declared Sybbie, still looking at her stomach as if it had done something to personally offended her. Mary wondered if maybe something similar had happened with her when Mama was pregnant with Edith... it would explain a lot of things... Mary was suddenly worried she might have taste of her own medicine if Sybbie had a personal vendetta against her siblings before they were even born.

"Well, like I said, you don't have to if you don't want to. But it happens. It's a part of life," said Mary, trying to smooth out when felt like an absolute disaster.

George was peering at her curiously. "How do they fit it in there?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, as if that would clear things up.

"They just can," said Mary, far too squeamish to contemplate explaining the female reproductive system to her six year old son. It was too complex a conversation to have just yet and one she was unprepared for.

Mary grateful when Tom came home, relieved to no longer have to answer prying questions. "Let Mary rest now," he told them, "I'll be down in a while. You two can watch a movie."

Mary was a little sad to see them go but also somewhat relieved as Tom presented her with the medication. "How are you feeling?"

Mary shrugged before easing down more on the pillow. "No worse but no better."

Tom gave her a strange look, much like the one he had worn when she was showing the children the sonogram. "I'll get you a cup of water."

It was times like these, when he looked after her with such tenderness and such care, that Mary began to wonder if he reciprocated her feelings, even in some small way. Maybe Anna hadn't been wrong... perhaps there was more there after all.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments last chapter!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Nineteen**

It would have been too much to expect things would stay serene for long. Home was basically a utopia— Mary was surrounded by the people she loved most, she had medication for her nausea, and work was slowly starting again. The blog detailing her childhood at Downton was a success and while tours were on halt, the gift shop had transferred online. Carson, his wife Mrs. Hughes, and the Molesleys had generously offered to each go in twice a week each to package boxes and ship them out.

Mary was in the midst of reading over Thomas's concerns about the new website design when she heard small feet running down the hall.

"Mum! _Mum_!"

Mary looked up from her laptop, horrified when she saw George crying. "What's the matter?" She asked, setting the laptop aside to dangle her legs off the edge of the bed and hug her son. "What's happened?"

He handed her phone to her, sniffling. "I'm sorry!" He wailed.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"I told Nana!" George wiped away tears with the back of his hand, sobbing loudly. "I didn't mean to! It just came out!"

"Told Nana what?" Mary asked, a sinking feeling of dread already in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew what George had revealed but needed to have it confirmed.

"About the babies!" George was nearly hysterical by this point, his words reaching a full on screech in her ear. Mary felt nauseated... but this time it wasn't morning sickness. " _Please_ don't be mad at me!"

"I'm not mad," Mary assured him, pulling him tighter. She tugged him up ever so slightly, letting him sit on her lap. He was almost getting too big for this now, but Mary kissed his forehead and ruffled his hair regardless. "It's okay. I know it was an accident."

"I didn't mean to," he said, voice muffled in her neck as he pressed his face there. "She wanted to know why I was so happy... and it just came out!" A fresh batch of tears started up.

Mary held him closer, trying to put aside her own fears. "It's okay, Georgie." She swallowed. "I'm glad you're excited about them. You're going to be a good big brother."

"Am I in trouble?"

Mary shook her head. "No. Not at all. Nana was going to find out soon so now is as good a time as any. In fact, you've done us a huge favor." Mary wasn't sure how she could have choked out the news to her mother-in-law. It seemed disrespectful, in a way, to admit she was carrying another man's children but she was determined to make sure George didn't feel bad about any of this. It was too heavy a secret for a six year old to contain for long... it wasn't one he really should have been dealing with.

Finally, once Mary was confident George had recovered, she asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Daddy's working and Sybbie's playing in her room."

"Maybe you can play with her," suggested Mary. "But remember to be nice."

George nodded before tearing out of the room. Once he was gone, Mary let out a sigh. She pulled out her phone, astonished that there were no attempted calls or any texts from Isobel. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

_MARY: Can we talk?_

Less than a minute later, her phone rang. "Hello?"

"Mary?"

"Isobel, I'm so sorry. This isn't how I wanted you to find out," Mary apologized profusely. Isobel wasn't perfect by any means, but she had been a loving, wonderful grandmother to both the children and a support for Mary. The fact she remained a part of their lives was a testament to how much she truly meant to them. For her to find out this news secondhand from her exuberant grandson seemed a poor repayment for her generosity.

"I assumed it wouldn't be." Her mother-in-law sounded tense. "I must admit, I was... well, I was shocked."

"I don't blame you." This was likely a horrible realization for Isobel. Mary didn't want to minimize her grief in any way. As Matthew's mother, she had every right to dislike the idea of Mary moving on, even if it was with Tom... never mind that, _especially_ if it was with Tom.

"I am surprised at you, Mary," Isobel scolded her, as though she were speaking to a kindergartner instead of a grown woman. "I thought you would have more sense than this."

Now Mary felt close to tears. "I don't have any excuses for my behavior." If it weren't her own life, Mary wouldn't have believed any of this could be happening. No one could have prepared her younger self for the trajectory she was on.

"I'm glad you don't," said Isobel harshly. "Because I wouldn't listen to them if you did." Before Mary could get in a word edgewise, Isobel continued, "I don't want to shame you for your choices. You are a young woman and I don't expect you to commit to a lifetime of celibacy just because Matthew is gone. It's perfectly natural for you to have a healthy sex life."

Mary was mortified. This is the last conversation she wanted to have with Isobel... she recalled all too well the horror she had felt when, upon learning about hers and Matthew's difficulty to conceive, Isobel had enthusiastically given them several books and began recommending different positions for them to try out. It had taken Matthew's humiliated exclamation of, " _Mother!"_ to stop that conversation from progressing further.

"But I am incredibly disappointed that you broke quarantine in the middle of a _global_ pandemic to practice unsafe sex without considering the health of yourself, my grandson, Tom, and his little girl!" Isobel concluded, causing Mary's eyes to widen. Oh, God... she didn't know!

"Isobel—"

"What were you thinking?" demanded Isobel. "No— don't answer that, I know the answer! You weren't thinking at all!"

Mary knew it was an accurate enough assessment— she hadn't been thinking. This possibility had never entered her mind at any point in time, even though she knew full well it was a likely outcome, and now she was facing the consequences. Nevertheless, Mary was a adult who didn't deserve to be dressed down in this way.

"Isobel, it's not like that!" exclaimed Mary, growing irate. "I haven't compromised anyone's health and as a matter of fact, I _was_ using protection... _not_ that it is any of your business!" she added snidely.

There was silence. "I don't understand. How... how far along are you?"

"Three months."

"Forgive me, my dear," began Isobel, her indignation from earlier gone and replaced by confusion, "but how can you be three months pregnant without having left your home and exposed your household to a deadly virus? It doesn't make any sense."

Mary closed her eyes. This was the part she had dreaded the most... if only Isobel had connected the dots! "Tom's the father."

There was a long silence. Mary checked her phone to make sure Isobel hadn't hung up. Then, "Oh. Oh, I see."

"This isn't how I wanted you to find out about any of this," said Mary firmly. "If I could, I would have sat you down in person and informed you myself. You deserve better than this and I am truly sorry."

"Yes." Isobel sounded far away. "Do your parents know?"

"No. Neither do Granny or Edith." She swallowed. "And I ask that you let me tell them myself."

"Yes. Of course."

"I really am sorry." Mary felt like a parrot, repeating the same phrase over and over again, but she couldn't see to find any other words. None of her guilt ebbed away but she had no idea what she could say to make any of this better.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose you are."

Mary blinked back tears. "If you want to be angry with someone, please be upset with me. Don't take it out on the children. It's not their fault."

"No— I wouldn't do that. George... well, George is the last bit of Matthew left. I could never."

"And Sybbie?" asked Mary sharply, maybe more than what was strictly necessary.

"Nor Sybbie," agreed Isobel. "I care for her, too. You know I admired your sister a great deal."

 _And you're likely revolted that I fell into bed the man she was supposed to be with,_ thought Mary. Nevertheless, she said, "I understand that this... well, that it's a horrible shock to you... but you are more than welcome to be a part of the babies lives. We'd love you to be another grandmother to them."

"Them?"

"We're having twins."

"Oh my." Isobel sounded winded, as though she had completed a marathon. "Well, this day is full of surprises." Mary didn't know what to say, so she remained quiet until Isobel said, "I shall think about it. I'm still rather... rather shocked by this turn of events. I hope you'll let me have some time to process things."

"Certainly. Of course." They said their goodbyes, neither of them really having the heart to commit to their usual warm farewell, leaving Mary alone now to her thoughts.

She flopped back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. What was she to do? She picked herself up, walking into the bathroom. She stared back at her own reflection. Isobel's baseless accusations had reopened a wounds stretching back nearly fifteen years. Something about the tone of her voice reminded Mary of the maelstrom of rumors surrounding her and Kemal Pamuk... all the judgement, all the whispers... and Edith, doing everything she could to remind her of it.

By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, Mary was quite numb. She walked through the house, finally coming to the office. Tom was typing away on his laptop, barely taking any notice of her until she leaned against the desk. "Hey," he said, smiling, "Everything with the website going well?"

"Isobel knows."

Tom stopped typing. "About...?" His fell to her stomach. Mary nodded. He sighed, pushing his chair back. "Can I ask why you told her before anyone else?"

"I didn't. George did." Tom nodded, seeing what had happened. "It was an accident. I couldn't be mad at him... but it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"I imagine it wasn't," murmured Tom, lost in his own thoughts. Then, "Are you alright?"

Mary shrugged. "I'm about as well as you can be after a conversation like that."

"I wish you'd told me. I could have helped."

"I didn't want to disturb you. Not while you were working."

"I wouldn't have minded," insisted Tom.

"I know," said Mary, looking down at her bare feet on the hardwood floor. It still bothered her, the conversation with Isobel...

"Did something happen?" Tom asked, seemingly reading her mind. "Did Isobel say something?"

Mary hesitated. It wasn't Isobel's fault... she doubted anyone would have predicted this turn of events. "It's nothing. Really. I just— well, it wasn't a fun conversation to have."

"How did she take it, then?"

"She's in shock... which is hardly a surprise."

"No... I suppose it's understandable." Mary lifted up her head to meet Tom's gaze as he said, "But... can you promise me you'll let me be there for when we tell the rest of your family? I— I want to be able to tell them."

"Of course," said Mary, honestly somewhat relieved. "I didn't mean to have Isobel even know yet... I was just trying to minimize the damage as soon as possible."

Tom nodded, turning back to his laptop. "Do you think we ought to tell the others? Soon?"

Mary wished he hadn't said it. She had been trying to avoid the thought of telling her parents, telling Edith... She wasn't looking forward to everyone knowing about this specific element of hers and Tom's relationship. It was something that had been, up until this point, strictly between them. (Telling Anna didn't count— she was Mary's other best friend.) She wasn't sure what would be worse— them knowing about it or them knowing and believing this was born out of a purely selfish desire to pass time by in quarantine instead of knowing how she really did love him.

Perhaps that was what prompted Mary to ask, without looking at him, "Do you think that maybe we should... should say we are dating? When we tell my parents?"

She ignored the stabbing pain in her chest when she saw Tom's head move back and forth before saying, "We shouldn't lie to them. We owe it to them to be honest."

It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did; she wasn't ignorant to how he felt about her... or rather, how he didn't feel about her. So Mary nodded and said, "Of course. You're right." There were tears swimming in her eyes, so she turned her head away. "I should get back to work."

But Mary didn't immediately get back to work. She stood at the bathroom sink, dabbing her eyes with toilet paper and blowing her nose as she tried to get her emotions under control. She stared into her own eyes, questioning herself, wondering how she could have possibly allowed things to get this far. Her whole life she had been able to keep firm control over herself— so what had happened?

Once the tears subsided, Mary trudged back into her room and finished up her email to Thomas.

* * *

After talking it out, Tom and Mary decided that they would tell Mama and Papa on Saturday. Mary asked them if they would be open to another Zoom call, to which her parents enthusiastically agreed.

Mary was an absolute wreck the morning of, doing her make up for the first time in weeks and pulling on a loose fitting red dress. "You don't have to do all this," insisted Tom, observing her in the doorway as she curled her hair. "They're your parents."

"I know. But if I don't do something, I'll be fretting over everything," said Mary, letting one curl fall loose. She screwed up her face; Anna was far better at doing hair than she was. She wished she was here... then she would have someone to voice all her anxieties to besides Tom, who she was certain was growing weary of it... and it probably wasn't helping his nerves, either.

Tom seemed to accept her response, ready to walk out the door. He paused, hand on the bathroom wall, his body halfway out the door, before turning around. "Do you think I should change, then?"

"If you want to. It can't hurt."

When Mary had finished, she found Tom, shirtless, two button downs in front of him on the bed. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Which do you think I should wear, then?" he asked, comparing them.

Mary walked over to the bed, absentmindedly playing with her necklace. Their options were between a white and a light blue. "The blue," she decided. "It will bring out your eyes." She was oblivious to the strange look he shot her, mind on too many other things.

She vacuumed the floor and dusted in the living room, even though her parents weren't going to see those surfaces. Tom came down, watching her shoving the coffee table away. "Here— let me do that. You shouldn't be doing that, not with..." he trailed off.

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid," said Mary, though she would begrudgingly admit he was probably right. "That's good," she said, once he had scooted it far enough. "Thanks."

From that point on, Mary was adjusting her laptop so they could both fit in the shot. Sybbie and George were presently tearing around the living room, playing tag with one another. Mary's nerves were beginning to fray under the pressure and Tom sent them outside.

"Breathe," he said, placing a hand on her back— Mary nearly started at the contact. He had forgone these innocent touches in the wake of everything. His hand grounded her back into reality. "Everything will be alright."

"You don't know that," said Mary, slumping forward with her elbows digging into her knees. "They might be furious."

"They might. But that's not what I meant." Mary let her eyes fall shut as he began rubbing her back. "Even if they are upset for a while, they'll come around eventually. These babies will be their grandchildren. They won't be able to be angry forever."

Mary wasn't so sure: the Crawleys weren't always receptive to change and could oftentimes be critical of anything outside the norms they had constructed. Papa could hold a grudge when he wanted to. And Mama... Mary didn't doubt that her mother loved her very much, but she also knew her mother could have her moments where she was incredibly judgmental. After Matthew injured his back and was in his wheelchair with a slim chance of recovery, Mama had only been able to focus on the possibility of grandchildren. And even though she had been one of the first people in the family to welcome Tom in, she had been horrified upon being introduced to him.

"I wish I had your confidence," said Mary, her hand subconsciously falling on his denim clad knee.

Tom's hand left her back to pick up the one on his knee. Mary felt horribly embarrassed, trying to pull it away, only for Tom to squeeze it. "Take it from someone who has been on the receiving end of their wrath more often than you; they will get over it."

Mary laughed. When Tom gave her a quizzical look, she said, "I think it's funny that you think they've been angry at you more than they have at me... as if I didn't live with them for about twenty years."

"Yes, but they loved you. That's different."

"They love you, too," she countered, meeting his gaze.

"Not always. Not at the start."

There was a change on Mary's screen. Mama and Papa were ready. Mary and Tom looked at one another, with equal levels of apprehension. "It's time to face the music," said Mary, turning to the laptop. Tom dropped her hand, much to her dismay, but made up for it as he wrapped an arm around her on the back of the couch.

Mama and Papa's faces appeared on the screen. "Hi!" Mary greeted them with an uncharacteristic cheer. "It's so wonderful to see you!"

"Hello, my dear," Papa said. "Now where are our grandchildren?"

"Robert!" exclaimed Mama.

"Glad to know how you really feel about us," teased Tom, likely trying to preemptively lighten the mood, but the remark made the knots in Mary's stomach twist tighter. Little did he know their grandchildren _were_ present...

"I'm sorry," Papa said, not sounding entirely apologetic. "But I thought we would be seeing them."

"Perhaps when things are over, you can," suggested Tom. Mary thought it was terribly optimistic to assume they wouldn't end the call the minute they found out. "But we've actually got something we wanted to tell you." Her palms were growing sweaty, sticking to the fabric of her dress as Tom prompted her with a, "Mary?"

Mary shot him a quick glare. She assumed, considering how much he wanted to be included in these proceedings, that he was planning on helping her relay the news. As it was, she felt rather betrayed. Nevertheless, she plastered a smile on her face. "Well, there's no easy way to say it: I'm pregnant."

Mama was the first to react with a gasp. "Oh my goodness!" Much to Mary's surprise, she seemed... well, happy. Her eyes were wide, but she seemed to be smiling.

Papa, on the other hand, was the very picture of confusion. "Pregnant?"

"Yes," said Mary, uncertain of what else to say. "Pregnant."

"Are you excited?" asked Mama.

"Yes. Very." Mary relaxed ever so slightly, letting her guard down. The smile on her face became more genuine with each second that passed. "I'd say we are both looking forward to it."

"My dear," Papa began, "as... well, pleased as I am to know about my new grandchild—"

"Grandchildren," interjected Tom. Mary glanced over at him, heart melting when she saw his wide grin. "We're having twins."

Mama let out another gasp. "Twins!"

"Twins?" repeated Papa. "But the Crawleys have never had twins in the family!" He didn't seem upset by this— merely surprised. He smiled now, widely.

"Well, we're about to," said Mary, hand resting on her stomach. She couldn't believe it— Papa was actually being reasonable, genuinely pleased.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" Mama was positively over the moon. "How far along are you?"

"About twelve weeks," said Mary, which prompted her another excited gasp.

Papa, however, had grown quiet again. "My dear, I hope you don't mind if I ask but... is the father aware?"

"Yes," answered Tom slowly, confused... but Mary had figured things out already. _Oh my God... they don't know!_ No wonder they were so strangely supportive right now... It was the conversation with Isobel all over again, somehow even worse than before. "He is very much aware."

Papa nodded sagely. "That's a relief to hear. And he is committed to helping you with the baby?"

"Of course I am," Tom said before Mary could try and jump in to ease into a topic that might salvage their collective relationship.

Papa was taken by surprise, but Mary knew he still hadn't pieced the puzzle together yet. She was screaming internally, desperately wanting to end this painfully awkward call as he said, "Well, that's very decent of you, Tom. We appreciate you looking after all of Mary's children... but I was asking about the child's biological father." Mary knew it had clicked with Tom then. Papa turned his gaze to Mary. "I take it that based on Tom's response he is not interested in being in the picture?"

"How long had you been seeing this man, Mary?" Mama jumped in now, taking a less enthusiastic tone from the one she'd had earlier. "We didn't even realize you had a boyfriend!"

"I don't," admitted Mary begrudgingly before Tom could, hating the way the way the words sounded in her mouth.

They were both stunned into silence. Tom looked ready to speak, but Mary nudged his ankle with her foot and gave him a Look. _Not yet._ They needed to process this gradually and she wasn't ready for them to know yet.

Her parents blinked. Mama was the first to speak. "Well... I suppose things are different these days."

Mary rolled her eyes. Honestly, for people who had grown up in the sixties and seventies, Mama and Papa were horribly old fashioned. Why did it matter so much to them?

"So... a complete stranger is the father of our grandchild?" asked Papa, looking at Mary as if she were the stranger he was imagining.

"No."

"An old boyfriend, then?"

"Is it Tony Foyle?" Mama sounded more hopeful than she ought to... _far_ more hopeful. In fact, she looked almost _excited_. They didn't even know that Mary had even slept with him... "I always thought there was something between you two..."

Mary snapped right then and there. This was tedious and tiring, not to mention incredibly invasive. "Tony is _married_ ," she reminded her parents, both of which seemed far too excited by the idea of Tony as a father. "Last I knew Charles in Poland for work and I would rather die than sleep with Henry again. So no, it's not an old boyfriend, either." She realized, as she concluded, Evelyn hadn't made the speech. She always managed to forget about Evelyn...

"It's me," Tom said, before they could begin questioning any further. "I'm their father." Without leaving any room for interpretation, Tom let the arm resting on the couch wrap around Mary's shoulders. Unlike the times he made this gesture before, Mary tensed up, knowing the worst was about to come.

Matching expressions of confusion came across her parents faces before their phone was dropped on the ground. "Oh!" exclaimed Mama as it thudded, Mary and Tom looking up at the library ceiling until a hand reached down and covered the camera. Mary felt her muscles tighten until Papa was staring at them again.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm afraid there's been some misunderstanding. Tom, you don't mean to say you and Mary—" Mary was mortified, "—well, that is... you seem to be insinuating that you are the biological father instead of the man who'll be raising them."

Tom shook his head. "That's exactly what I mean, Robert."

"Oh my God!" bemoaned Mama in the background, no doubt scandalized and horrified.

"You're joking. Tell me you are joking."

"Why would we joke about this?" Mary was growing hysterical. "I don't think there's any way you could look at this and think it's funny!"

"You're right— it isn't!" Papa's temper had been ignited. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong! We're adults, Robert—"

"But Mary... you said you didn't have a boyfriend!" Mama cried out in the background.

"We aren't dating!" Mary practically shouted. She felt sick— this was going as poorly as she feared and she could feel the judgement in their gaze. "I'm not sure if you are aware or not, but you don't have to be dating someone for that to happen!"

"Don't speak to your mother that way!" snapped Papa, face turning red as Mama lamented in the background. "I am shocked and disappointed, in _both_ of you!" Before either of them could respond, he shouted, "I thought you were to be trusted!" Mary was uncertain just who was under the line of fire until he said, "I was able to accept it when you got Sybil pregnant because you wanted to marry her, but the fact you haven't even promised to commit to Mary in some small way is absolutely unacceptable!"

Mary felt nauseous— though this time she suspected it wasn't the morning sickness. This was going far worse than imagined. She clapped a hand over her mouth, lurching off the couch. Tom rose up and she managed to mumble, "Bathroom," before staggering off.

"Mary Josephine Crawley! Don't you dare walk off when we are in the middle of discussion!" Papa's voice grew fainter as she stepped into bathroom. She wasn't able to close the door before retching over the toilet.

"It's the morning sickness, Robert!" Tom yelled back, clearly having lost all patience. "It's been horrible for her this whole time! She could use a little sympathy instead of being scolded like she's a child!"

She hadn't even realized Tom had left the living room until he crouched by her side as she resurfaced from the toilet bowl. She was clammy, shaking ever so slightly from the exertion. She couldn't stop the tears leaking from her eyes. "It's okay," Tom whispered in her ear. He reached under the sink, procuring a washcloth which he ran under the water to wipe her mouth off. Mary was practically collapsed on tile floor, feeling boneless and shaken. "I'll get you a glass of water."

Mary leaned her head against the beige wall, wondering why she had chosen the color in the first place. It was dull and boring and ugly. She heard voices from the living room, likely Mama and Papa, but she tried to pay it no mind. Her forehead was clammy, eyelids falling shut.

When Tom returned, he knelt down to her level. "Are— Are they still..." she trailed off.

Tom nodded. "Do you want me to hang up?"

Mary shook her head before swallowing some water. When she finished, she handed the glass back to Tom. "No. We... we need to be strong." When Tom gave her a wary look, she continued, "We need to be the reasonable ones." Mary realized her parents were rightfully confounded by everything but at the same time these were their _grandchildren_. She would give them the same spiel she had given Isobel and let them do with it what they would.

Tom offered her a hand, pulling her up to her full height. Mary leaned into him, more than she normally would have allowed herself, knees a little shaky. Tom wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her upright. "Are you alright?" She merely nodded in response, gradually regaining some of her strength. Tom didn't let go of her and Mary didn't tell him to.

Mama and Papa looked no less disappointed than they had when Mary left. "I understand why you are upset," Mary said, mustering up strength she didn't feel. "Truly, I do. But the fact is that in a few months time you'll have two new grandchildren. We very much want you to be a part of their lives, just as you've been in Sybbie and George's."

"Mary, we need time to process things right now. You've dumped a lot of information on us," said Mama accusingly, pale and disoriented.

"Very well. I hope you won't punish Sybbie or George for any of this, either."

"Of course not." She was shocked Papa was speaking... or maybe she was shocked he hadn't spoken sooner. He was never one to hide his disapproval. "They are blameless in all this. Though I don't think we shall speak to them today. We're still in shock."

Mary nodded. "Very well. I think that concludes things, then." Without so much as another word, she disconnected the call and closed her laptop.

"Are you okay?"

Mary couldn't bring herself to speak. She merely stared at the spot her parents's reproachful faces had been. There were no tears in her eyes yet Mary didn't feel contented in anything that had just happened.

"Come here." Mary didn't even need to move for Tom's arms to wrap around her. The rigidity in her shoulders melted away as he pulled her flush to his chest, chin resting on top of her head. She wondered if the gesture was for his sake more than for hers... after all, they had said some wretched things to him.

"Sorry," she finally said after several minutes had passed. She wasn't exactly certain what she was apologizing for— her parents, this situation, her struggles...

"It's okay. Not your fault."

* * *

After Mary had gone upstairs to brush her teeth, they began formulating plans on how to tell the rest of the family. A general pecking order was established: Granny, then Edith. Tom wanted to wait a while longer before they tackled his mother and brother, the two people in his family he was closest to. Oddly enough, Mary was more worried about their reactions that that of her grandmother and sister. She had only met them each once, for Sybbie's christening, and they had each been formidable in their own unique ways.

"Should we bite the bullet now? With Granny?" asked Mary as Tom opened up a cupboard in the kitchen, reaching for a glass to fill with water. She gnawed on the inside of her lip. "I don't want to wait too long, but at the same time I don't want to give her a heart attack."

"Your grandmother's a tough woman. I doubt our news would be enough to cause that kind of damage."

Mary wasn't so sure. She wasn't quite certain if Tom grasped how mad this all was. He must, in some small way, understand that for years and years, he had been firmly associated with Sybil and her with Matthew. Living together had never aroused suspicion from their family because the idea of them ever engaging in a relationship that wasn't platonic was unthinkable. The only people who had seen anything more were the jealous men and women in their lives, seeing clues that even Mary hadn't.

"To spare ourself some time and preserve our nerves, we might as well tell her that you're the father from the start," Mary said, deciding to rectify past mistakes. "I'm not in the mood for another guessing game of _Who Has Mary Been Fucking?_ "

Much to her surprise, Tom flinched. He said nothing though, yet she regretted using such a coarse, brusque word to describe it. It was more than that to her... Was it possibly more than that to him as well?

 _Don't be ridiculous, Mary,_ she chastised herself. Tom had made it abundantly clear what this was... He didn't even want to _date_ her, for God's sakes, why would it bother him? Maybe it was just because she'd sworn... though he didn't seem to mind any other time.

However, when the time came, she panicked. She was about to call Granny when she turned to Tom. "Maybe we should tell Edith and Bertie instead. They might take it better."

Tom merely raised his eyebrows. "If you think it's best—"

Mary nodded. She wasn't sure if it really would be better— hers and Edith's relationship had warmed slightly since she married Bertie, but they certainly weren't the best of friends. Still, Edith was born in the same generation as herself and less likely to chastise Mary for being pregnant, especially after her whole ordeal with Michael Gregson.

Mary perched herself on the kitchen counter next to Tom, scooting as close as she could. She FaceTimed Edith, waiting with bated breath.

"Mary," greeted her sister with confusion before perking up once she spotted, "and Tom! How lovely to see you!"

"It's lovely to see you, too, Edith," said Tom with a warm smile. Mary was only able to manage something strained. She let him manage all the small talk, not trusting herself to speak.

It wasn't until Edith began going off on some horribly dull tangent that Mary interrupted with a cheery smile and an, "Edith, this is all very fascinating, but Tom and I actually did have a purpose for calling. Could you go fetch Bertie? We have something we need to tell you."

It was a little heartening, watching Edith's expression phase from irritated to confused to concerned in a span of ten seconds. "Alright... Though I am a bit worried. Nothing's wrong, right?"

"Nope. This is good news," Tom assured her with a smile, arm wrapping around Mary's waist. It occurred to her that Edith couldn't see such a gesture so it was solely for Mary's benefit. It made her feel better.

"I'll go fetch him... I'll just leave you here on my couch. He's in his office..." Edith was scattered, setting her phone down presumably on her couch. She could hear her footsteps and a door closing.

"Be nice," Tom told Mary seriously.

"That _was_ being nice," insisted Mary. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little worried about all this!"

"Believe me, I have." He didn't say it with any degree of harshness. "Do you want me to hold the phone? Your hand is shaking."

So it was. Mary hadn't even noticed, too deep in her own head. "You'd better," she said, handing it over to him, wincing when she realized how sweaty her hands were. Thankfully, Tom didn't comment on it. He simply figured out the best way to hold the phone.

When Edith returned with Bertie, the whole song and dance from before began again with remarks on the weather and inquiries as to how Bertie was managing during quarantine. "And what about you two? I imagine George and Sybbie are a handful," he said, chuckling. "We're lucky we've only Marigold to contend with."

"Though that might change soon! Fingers crossed!" Edith said cheerfully.

"That's actually why we've called," Mary said with a smile, a touch more smug than strictly necessary.

Noting the confusion on their faces, Tom decided to jump in. "What Mary means is that we've some news." The hand on her hip squeezed her as he said, "Mary and I will be having twins!"

They were met with silence, which was better than Mama and Papa's anger, but not much better. "Wait... what?" Edith asked.

"I'm pregnant," clarified Mary.

"Congratulations!" Bertie said with a grin. "That _is_ big news— but I'm so happy for you! We both are!" To his credit, he genuinely sounded and looked pleased for them.

Edith, however, was another story.

"I don't understand," said Edith, brow furrowed and glancing back and forth between them.

"What's not to understand?" Mary asked tightly.

"How are you pregnant?"

"You've a child yourself. You should know how it works."

"Yes, but I don't understand how you could be pregnant with Tom's child!" exclaimed Edith. Ah— so there it was. The negative reaction Mary had known would come. Oddly enough (though she supposed it wasn't so odd, given how she responded to Edith ordinarily), Mary wasn't as afraid of her reaction now. "You do remember he was going to marry Sybil, don't you? Our sister?"

"Neither of us have forgotten about Sybil," Tom said, now sounding less cheerful than before. In fact, his tone was rather hard. "And I'll remind you I was just as involved in this as Mary, so don't put all the blame on her."

Edith grimaced. "Please... Please tell me it was IVF or something..."

"It's none of your business," Mary said instantly, wondering why Edith felt the need to ask.

"Quite right," agreed Bertie. "It isn't our business."

Edith was shaking her head, looking very much overwhelmed. "I can't deal with this," she said, shoving the phone into Bertie's hand. "I'm stepping out for some air."

"Edie— Edith, wait!" Bertie called out after her. He stared helplessly after her as the door slammed.

Tom's hand tightened on her hip again. Mary turned her head to look at his face more clearly, finding a sad expression. She reached for his hand, unable to hold it and bumping her elbow against the cabinets behind her, but she let him know she was there for him.

Bertie turned back to two of them. "She'll be alright," he assured them, not sounding very certain himself. "She's just— she's overwhelmed. She will come around. I'll see to that."

"It's alright, Bertie," said Tom. "Edith— Well, she's entitled to her own opinion on the matter."

"Maybe so, but she shouldn't behave rudely to good news for her sister and brother-in-law." There was an edge to Bertie's voice. Mary suspected there would be a row once they'd hung up. "I'll let you go and see if I can bring Edith 'round." It took all of Mary's willpower to not make a remark about how he would sooner walk on water than impel Edith to be happy about something in Mary's life. "Congratulations, again, to the both of you."

"Thank you. We really do appreciate it," said Mary, able to smile genuinely for the first time since this call began.

"And congratulations on the relationship!" Bertie said, the smile fading from Mary's face. "I didn't even realize you two were together— though I must admit that I expected it at some point. Edie thought I was just seeing things—"

"We aren't together," Tom clarified.

Bertie was quiet. Mary's hand subconsciously left Tom's at last, flopping to her side once again. "Oh. I see." Still, he managed to smile. "Well, that's alright, too. As long as it works for the both of you and you're happy, who cares what anyone else thinks?"

"I'd say we're happy... aren't we, Mary?"

"Very," said Mary, not expressing the enthusiasm she actually felt about the matter.

"Then all the better." Bertie smiled at them again. "We'll talk sometime soon, I imagine. Please keep us posted."

They exchanged goodbyes and once the call was over, Tom handed the phone back to Mary. "Well," was all she was able to say. That hadn't gone quite to plan...

He was still wearing that sad expression from before. Mary forced herself to shove that hurt she had felt at the reminder that they weren't together to focus on him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Mary wasn't convinced. His eyes were fixed on his knees. She reached out and rested a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? You've done nothing wrong." Before Mary could say anything else, Tom was hopping off the counter. "I'm just— I'm going to take a shower. Do you want to order something for dinner?"

"I can do that," said Mary, blinking. She was taken aback by this— her attempts at comfort were clearly unwanted. She couldn't help but feel dejected. "Let's hold off telling Granny. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

Tom nodded. "I agree. I think we need a bit of a break from it all." He offered her a smile before leaving her alone in the kitchen.

* * *

Mary checked her phone after dinner as Tom cleared things away. "I'll join you and the children once the washing's finished up," he said. "Go have a rest."

Mary didn't feel relaxed at all, though, even as she sat next to George and Sybbie on the couch. Disney+ had been a worthwhile gift for Christmas and Sybbie was trying to figure out the best film for them to watch as George snuggles up to her side. As wonderful as his presence was, Mary really needed Tom— not in that way, but just to know he did care, in some small way.

There was a text from Bertie. Mary sucked in a deep breath before going to read it.

_BERTIE: I'm sorry about how things went earlier. I've talked to Edith and we determined most of her anger isn't directed at you or Tom— she's been struggling personally lately. Still, it might be best if you gave her some space. I'd still like to know you + babies are doing well, so please feel free to text me for updates and I can pass it along to Edith. :)_

Mary stared blankly at the phone as Tom joined them on the couch. Sybbie and George sat between them, engrossed in trying to select the perfect movie, but laid his arm out across the back of the couch. "You look rather serious," he commented.

Without saying anything, Mary handed him the phone. He let out a sigh. "I suppose we should have expected that."

Not certain of what to say, Mary nodded, focusing her attention on the screen. George and Sybbie seemed to have settled on a movie, though as it started playing her concentration ceased existing. It was easy to tune out what was going on onscreen, even as the children occasionally giggled and asked questions. Tom was there to eagerly answer them and Mary let everything fade into the background.

Before long, George was crawling into her lap to kiss her cheek. "Night night," he said, trying to stop himself from smiling.

Mary kissed his cheek as well, slowly coming back to reality. "Goodnight, my darling."

"Brush your teeth first," Tom called out after him after the children had finished saying goodnight to them both. Mary heard a groan, which sounded like Sybbie's, before hearing them march to the bathroom.

"We should get some sleep, too," Mary said aloud, not certain how she was going to be able to manage Granny tomorrow.

"Before we do, I think we should talk," said Tom. That made Mary turn her head to face him. He looked a little nervous. He eyes the bathroom door before saying, "But maybe we should wait for them to go to bed first."

Mary raised her eyebrows, wondering if he was simply stalling or if he genuinely didn't want the children overhearing. Something told her it had to do with their long, stressful day. Mary was relieved George and Sybbie has been shielded from it all; they wouldn't understand why people were upset.

They said goodnight to the children again before Tom suggested they step into the kitchen. Mary followed him there, wondering why he was returning there. When he asked her if he could have a small glass of whiskey, Mary gave him the okay. "You certainly deserve it," she said, leaning against the counter.

Tom shot her a grateful look. "It does seem a little unfair, though. For you."

Mary wanted to say that life wasn't fair, but she doubted that would help anyone. Instead, she asked, "How are you holding up?"

Tom had already poured out a small amount of whiskey into his glass. He managed to shrug. "I don't know what I expected, really." That didn't answer the question but Mary knew what he meant. "What about you?"

"As well as I suppose I can be." Mary was surprised by how little she was bothered by her family's reaction and how she had found herself more concerned with how Tom was feeling. She knew she loved him but she was a little taken aback by the depth of her own emotion. The fact they had treated him so poorly weighed heavily on her.

Tom nodded before swallowing his whiskey. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Before Mary could remind him that none of this was his fault, he continued, "For running off after the whole thing with Edith. I was thinking about myself and not about how you must be feeling."

"Don't worry. I'm used to it." Mary knew it was a bleak way to look at her relationship with her sister, but she supposed now that she would have been more shocked if Edith had taken the news well. "You aren't, though."

The look Tom gave her was indecipherable. Not for the first time, Mary wished knew what was going on in his head. He walked over to her, so close they were only a few centimeters apart. Mary met his eye, just able to make it out in the darkened kitchen. She didn't realize his hand had reached up to cradle her jaw until she felt it.

For a moment, Mary thought he might kiss. But nothing happened. "Do... Do you want to talk about it?" She finally said, figuring it was best at least one of them would say something.

Tom shook his head. "No. Not right now. But thank you for asking." That was when he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Mary's hand subconsciously found its way to his chest while his moved to the back of her neck, the other wrapping around her waist. She felt his heartbeat quicken under her hand and she pulled back ever so slightly, looking at him once more.

It only took a slight lean to press her body to his. The kiss was unlike any of the others they had shared. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, they stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding one another. It was slow, appreciative and completely unhurried.

She felt the familiar jolt of desire when Tom's hand slid down, settling on her bottom. Before she knew it, he was picking her up and setting her on the counter. "Is this okay?" His asked, voice rough.

"More than okay," Mary before pulling him to her so their lips were pressed together once again. One hand slid down his chest until she found the zipper to his jeans. Before she could tug it down, his own hands had snaked under her dress and up her inner thigh. Her legs parted with little thought and she allowed him to yank her underwear down. She let out a gasp as his fingers found her.

As wonderful as it was, it wasn't enough. Though she was in a haze of bliss, Mary returned to her earlier task with fervor. It wasn't long before they were joined as one, her legs wrapped around him to hold him in place.

"Mary," he managed to gasp out when her lips were on his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. The sound of her name in his voice was perhaps the most erotic thing she had ever heard. She moved up by his ear, which caused him to cry out, "Oh, God, Mary!"

It wasn't until his hand began cupping her breast that Mary felt herself slowly becoming undone. She tilted her head back now that it was his turn to place kisses up and down her neck, luxuriating in the sensation until she felt a pain at the back of her head and heard a _thump_.

"Are you okay?" Tom had stopped moving, a worried look on his face.

Mary nodded, suddenly realizing she had hit her head on the cupboard door behind her. It suddenly dawned on her that they were in the kitchen of all places and it was the first time they'd really ventured out of the bedroom for this sort of thing. That reminder reinvigorated her excitement. "I'm fine," she assured him.

Tom didn't seem wholly convinced. "Maybe we should take this upstairs—"

He was cut off by Mary, whose hands gripped the front of his shirt, bringing their lips together again before saying, "Don't you dare stop." He didn't need anymore convincing.

Mary had no idea how much time passed before they both came down from their highs but even as Tom began redressing, Mary felt more closer to him than ever. "Are you alright?" asked Tom, obviously noting the fact she had yet to move.

"Certainly. I just don't trust my legs quite yet," she managed with a smile.

He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," Mary said. Maybe she wasn't quite in the right state of mind just yet, but after what they'd just experienced, she was inclined to be complimentary.

"Come on," he said, offering her his arm. "Let me help you up the stairs."

"I'm sure I can manage well enough now," insisted Mary, sliding off the counter but taking his arm anyway.

Once they were back to their room, the clothing was shed quickly. Mary didn't feel like turning on any lights to search around for pajamas, simply crawling under the sheets. Tom seemed to follow suit, moving underneath them with her. She let out a contented sigh as he wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing her collarbone. Her eyelids were heavy, making it hard for her to keep her eyes open.

She was half asleep when he finally spoke. "The reason I was so upset earlier was because of Edith bringing up Sybil. That's why I needed a moment to myself."

Mary suspected as much. "It's was cruel of her," she mumbled back. Judging by the way his body tensed up, she wondered if he had thought she was already asleep. Still, Mary continued, "I know you loved her."

"I did. Very much."

It didn't hurt to hear that. It was a simple fact. "I loved Matthew. So, so much. I didn't even realize just how much I could love someone until I fell for him." She was tired and not quite there, more honest than she might be otherwise. "But... Just because things are different now doesn't mean anything's changed. It doesn't mean I didn't love him any less." She hoped she was making some sense.

"I know." Tom kissed her cheek. "Get some rest."

Mary nodded. "You too." He deserved it. She let herself float away as he adjusted his arm around her.

* * *

Thankfully, any horrific scenarios that Mary had constructed in telling Granny dissipated. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Granny merely said with a weary sigh once the news was delivered. They decided to bite bullet as early in the morning as they possibly could, figuring waiting would be a form of mental torture. They were still in bed together, dressed in their pajamas and cuddled up under the sheets. "The two of you have never done things the traditional way. Why on earth would you start now?"

Mary was relieved to not be scolded like a child again. She hadn't anticipated an all out screaming match with Granny but she hadn't exactly expected things to go so swimmingly. "If you mean we haven't exactly done things conventionally, then you're right... but we are very happy about this. And we hope you are, too."

"Of course I am," replied Granny, without much enthusiasm... but then again, she was hardly one for cooing over babies. "But I must confess I don't quite understand it." Before Mary could inquire what she meant, she continued, "Is there something I am unaware of? Have the two of you been seeing one another."

Mary didn't even dare to look at Tom, who answered for them. "No. We aren't."

"I see." There was a note of disapproval in her voice. "Well, I suppose things are different these days."

And that was the most discouragement they received. In spite of her traditional values, Granny seemed excited about her new great grandchildren. Mary was relieved, finally glad to be able to talk to someone in her family without a fight breaking out.

"We should have told her first," Mary said once they hung up, a weight lifted off her shoulders. "I feel stupid for worrying yesterday."

"I'm surprised she took it so well," admitted Tom, looking as relaxed as she felt. "Then again, she doesn't like being predicable."

"Yes, but I was at least expecting a lecture of some sort," Mary said, still pleasantly surprised. It wasn't like Granny to be so agreeable.

"Well, thank our lucky stars she didn't," Tom said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Mary's cheek. Her eyes widened. "I'm not certain either of could have managed with it."

"No," agreed Mary, a little breathlessly, "No, I don't think we would have." She turned towards him, wondering if things had changed... if maybe something had altered between them last night. Mary decided to test out her theory by leaning forward, kissing him deeply. Instead of pulling back, Tom responded immediately, hand settling on her hip before wrapping around her waist. Mary couldn't help but smile against his lips, a weight easing off her shoulders.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm very sorry for not updating the past couple of week but I caught a stomach bug that knocked me flat on my back. As a result, I wasn't really able to write much and I've been playing catch up with my schoolwork. I'm busy tomorrow so I decided to post the new chapter tonight. I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the lovely reviews!
> 
> By the way... apologies in advance for our two favorite idiots.

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty**

After asking Tom if it was alright, Mary decided to bite the bullet and tell Thomas. She couldn't tell if she had waited too long to tell him or if now was an appropriate amount of time. As her assistant, he needed to be in the know, but considering he was her friend as well...

_MARY: Can you talk?_

_THOMAS: Yeah. What's up?_

_MARY: I need to tell you something._

_THOMAS: Then say it. No need to be cryptic._

Mary sighed. They were too similar... and she hated dragging it out but at the same time she still didn't want to tell him. The only people who had receptively responded to the news were Anna and Granny. It was only natural that she felt hesitant to share.

But it needed to be done.

_MARY: I'm pregnant._

There was no response for two minutes. Before Mary could text him back to ask if he was alright, she received a call. "Hello?" She said, already moving to the back door so she could stand outside. Chances were that she didn't need Tom or the children overhearing this conversation.

"What do you _mean_ you're pregnant?"

"I mean I am carrying a child in my uterus," Mary said in a deadpan as she stood in the back porch. The sky was grey but it wasn't cold outside, which was a relief. "Well, two children, actually—"

"You need to slow down," Thomas said bluntly. "You're having twins?"

"Yes," said Mary, glancing down at her stomach as she said it. There wasn't much to look at but there was now a noticeable bump where there hadn't been before.

"Well... Congratulations, I guess."

"Thanks." There was no other way to possibly respond... Thomas sounded more surprised than genuinely congratulatory.

"Right. How are you pregnant?"

"What do you mean how? The normal way," said Mary, unable to resist being snarky as she stepped into the backyard. It seemed strange that just next week part of this green yard would be gone. Her and Tom had hired contractors and renovations were soon to start. "No IVF, no turkey basters—"

"Let's try this again. _Who_ got you pregnant?" Before she could say anything, Thomas said, "And for the love of God, please don't say Henry."

"Don't worry. It's not him. Do you really think I'm that desperate?" she asked before she realized how awful it was going to sound when she told him who it really was. To anyone hearing her news, it _would_ sound like she had been desperate enough to seek out the first person in her life to relieve her sexual urges.

"Quarantine makes you do strange things."

"I figured that out for myself, strangely enough," drawled Mary, though honestly it was hard to tell if quarantine was the culprit. It was certainly the catalyst but Mary somehow knew that even if a global pandemic hadn't uprooted their lives, it would have only been a matter of time before she realized how she truly felt. "What sorts of strange things have you done?"

"This isn't about me, this is about you," snapped Thomas. "Now who did you sleep with?"

Mary bit the inside of her lip, dreading this. "Before I do, I need to tell you that it isn't just some quarantine thing. I didn't just— It's been going on before that. Well, my feelings have, anyway."

"Well, color me intrigued. You mean to say you've had a crush all this time?"

"I suppose I have, if you want to put it that way. It's an awfully juvenile of framing it, isn't it?" said Mary, rolling her eyes. She was glad she was alone. "And I think _all this time_ is a bit of an exaggeration but I've felt this way about him longer than I've been willing to admit to."

"Mary, if you don't start getting to the point, I'll hang up the bloody phone."

Mary rolled her eyes again. He was the one who wanted to talk about crushes, as if they were thirteen again. She let out a sigh. "It's Tom," she confessed.

There was silence. Mary wondered if he had hung up or if the call had dropped. Before she could check, he said, " _What_?" She began to speak only to be cut off by, "You mean Tom _Branson_?"

"Yes," replied Mary, sensing this was going to take an unpleasant turn.

"You've been fucking Tom?"

"Yes," repeated Mary, knowing this had already taken a nosedive.

There was silence. Then there was a groan on the other end. "Oh my God." He sounded absolutely stunned. "So... so you two are together now, then?"

"No," admitted Mary, ignoring her own disappointment. "Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've already explained to you how I feel. You do the math."

"Oh, God..." Thomas let out another groan. "So you've just been shagging, then?"

Mary flushed. "Yes." What else could she say? What other way could she describe it? At its core, that's all it was. Though their situation was inarguably nuanced, at its most basic, that was the most she could define it as.

"What made you think that was good idea? In case you've forgotten, he was going to marry your sister!"

That old guilt resurfaced and it wasn't any easier to face. "Of course I haven't forgotten."

"Then how are you pregnant with his baby? Oh, excuse me, I mean his babies?"

"I just told you! I— I'm in love with him!" The last part was a whisper, even though Tom was in the office and the children were entertaining themselves.

"You're what?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you!"

"Since when?"

"I don't know!" She cried out. "It could have been going on for years now, for all I know! But I know I do!" Her voice was much too loud— She was certain someone must have heard her, but it was a relief to finally scream it out. For weeks, her emotions had been threatening to boil over, bottled up inside for too long.

"So you aren't dating— How is it you're pregnant, then?"

"Funnily enough, we weren't aiming for that," Mary shot back, growing angrier and angrier. She knew she ought to just hang up right now, for the sake of her sanity and the babies, but she just couldn't seem to stop. "It just happened. And before you ask anything else, I am very happy about it so please don't spoil it."

There was a silence on the other end. Mary half dreaded his response. Then she heard a sigh and a, "Alright. I won't ask anymore questions. I'll just extend my congratulations."

"Thank you," Mary said, stiffly albeit relieved. She could tell he was still not comprehending things or even understanding, but the fact he was willing to put his own feelings aside was something she appreciated.

"Can I tell Jimmy?"

"We aren't keeping it a secret anymore, so you might as well," Mary told him. "But we haven't gotten around to telling Tom's mother or brother yet."

"Alright, I'll make sure not to bring it up next time they're over, then," Thomas said, his snark returning. Mary couldn't help but smile. She supposed it had been silly to mention it; she wasn't even certain if Thomas had ever met either of them. "But I'll have you know I'm upset with you." Mary tensed before he revealed, "Jimmy and I have had a bet for years now. He's always reckoned you two had a thing and I've been under the assumption you're just friends."

Her shoulders relaxed. "Well, you're each half right. You might as well call it a tie." It was baffling, because as clear as it was that her and Tom were not just friends, at the end of the day, that's all they were: friends.

Thomas scoffed. "Good luck trying to convince Jimmy of that. I might as well surrender."

They hung up shortly after that, Mary uncertain of what to make of it. It was clear he wasn't as happy as Anna (who had screamed with excitement when she learned Mary was expecting twins) but he wasn't like her family, either. A happy medium. Mary supposed she would take it. She walked back into the house, finding George and Sybbie coloring on the floor and the office door ajar.

"Hey," Tom said, glancing up from his laptop. He closed the lid. "How'd it go?"

Mary shrugged, closing the door behind her. "It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad, either."

"Sounds like a success in my books," Tom replied easily, pushing his chair away from the desk. "Come here."

Mary wasted no time doing just that, although she was confused until Tom tugged her down to his lap. A mixture of happiness and astonishment swirled within her. "I don't know how much work you'll get done like this," she managed to say lightly, one arm instinctively wrapping around his shoulders to form a loop as she clasped her hands together.

"I needed a break anyway," said Tom, and Mary was acutely aware of the arm around her waist and the hand on her thigh. It was a pleasant sensation. She let her eyes close, appreciating this closeness to him. "I'm sorry about about all this."

"I thought we agreed there was no sense in apologizing for the actions of others," said Mary, dealing him a serious look. "Or did that only apply to me?"

He smiled slightly. "I only meant if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in the situation if having to explain these things to everyone."

"If it weren't for me, I wouldn't have to explain this to everyone," she told him, somewhat annoyed. If he was going to blame himself for any of this, he had another thing coming. Though Mary could hardly say their life was a blissful dream free of problems, she didn't regret anything. She was with someone she loved and was going to have his children. If she could, she would do it all over again. "Believe it or not I'm happy right now, so don't apologize for it."

Tom smiled. "I'm happy, too." His eyes were distant, but his thumb stroked her thigh. Mary relaxed. Things had changed now... and for that, she was glad.

* * *

They were on the couch together, sitting closer than they had in some time now. One of Tom's arms was draped across the back of the couch, around Mary's shoulders. She could hardly concentrate on the show they were watching, as silly as it was to say, too distracted by his closeness. Though it had become increasingly more frequent for them to exchange kisses and hold one another when they weren't intimate, Mary still hadn't grown used to the little touches he now bestowed on her out of the bedroom.

"I've been thinking," Tom began, startling Mary's eyes away from the television screen, "and I think we should get married."

Mary hadn't expected that. She stared at him with wide eyes, astonished. In a way, she was overjoyed... Tom guaranteed to be at her side for the rest of his life? It was too wonderful an idea for words. "Goodness! Is this a proposal?"

"Do you want it to be?"

The truthful answer was _yes_... but his nonchalance to her question is what jerked her back into reality. He wasn't the excited yet nervous man he ought to be after asking a question with that kind of weight. Tom was stretched out, relaxed, as if he had asked her to turn the volume up instead of become his wife.

Mary chastised herself. Despite the increased physical contact between them, there was no proof he felt the same way she did. Furthermore, considering there hadn't even been talk about how to classify their new relationship, Mary felt it was awfully soon to talk about getting married. "What's brought this on?" She asked, skirting his question easily, genuinely curious as to why he was asking.

"Well, with the babies coming along, I thought... well, why not?"

"So the concern is the children being born out of wedlock?" Mary asked wryly, trying not to let her annoyance with his response show. "I hate to break it to you, but Sybbie is already illegitimate... and a girl. She won't be able to become Lord Branson."

"No," insisted Tom, ignoring her joke, but smirking regardless. "It's because we already know how well we work as a team. We've lived together for years, we already are raising two children and now we have more on the way."

Mary thought of the marriages of convenience her ancestors had shoved their children into. It wasn't quite the same thing, but what he was essentially proposing was, in fact, a convenient marriage. "Tom," began Mary gently, though she didn't know why— if anyone's feelings by the end of this were going to end up mangled and bruised, they would be hers. "I understand what you are saying. Really, I do. But if I ever marry again, I want it to be for love."

"So you don't love me?" asked Tom. His words made her mouth go dry. Why was he... did he suspect her feelings? "Because I love you."

Mary felt as if her world had been tilted off its axis. Suddenly it seemed like she couldn't breathe. "You do?"

"You're my best friend," Tom said, taking her hand in his. "We've been through a lot together— more than most people have. We understand each other in a way no one else does... and I love you." Mary was honestly speechless, looking into his eyes. Was this true... was this really happening?

"I love you, too," she told him, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. They met one another's smiles, a giddy sort of laugh escaping both of them at the same time.

Had it really been this easy, Mary marveled, to confess how she felt? She never would have believed Tom could feel the same way... but maybe she hadn't given him enough credit. She had picked up a lot of things from him, so who wasn't to say he hadn't learned to hide how he felt?

But all her hopes came crashing down the moment Tom said, "See? It's not the same kind of love... but we have a strong friendship. And I think for us that could be enough."

She let go of his hands as if he were on fire. How could she have been so stupid...? "Not for me," she said, putting her hands back in her lap, turning forward. She couldn't believe she had been so foolish, so vulnerable and weak— "And it wouldn't be for you, either. You— you deserve to marry someone you are in love with."

"I think you and I both know that isn't going to happen," Tom said, a dagger piercing her heart.

"What about Lucy?" Mary loathed to bring up the moment, especially if doing so meant he might reconsider things with her. Still, knowing a certainty was better than a dozen doubts. "I thought you liked her."

"I liked her. I didn't love her. If I did, you wouldn't be pregnant with my children."

Mary couldn't help but love the way it sounded. "Fair enough," said Mary softly. "So it's over with her? Permanently?"

"It was over for me the night you and I started. I think all this would be a dealbreaker for her," said Tom flatly. "To be honest... I think our love lives are on hold indefinitely."

Mary knew hers was, thanks to her feelings, but apart from Tom's reluctance to be in relationship with anyone, she didn't see what his problem was... and as far as he knew, she had nothing holding her back. "Why do you say that?"

He turned to look at her. "Imagine if you went out on a date with a man and found out he still lived with the mother of his children. Would you really see a viable future with someone like that?"

This... all of this bothered Mary. It chafed at her sensitivities, which she thought had died with Matthew, making them red and raw with irritation. "Is this because of what my father said?" She asked, sorely hoping this wasn't the case.

Tom seemed uneasy. "Only partially." Oh God... as if this couldn't get any worse! He was proposing to her out _guilt_. Part of her wanted to laugh, if only to stop herself from crying. "I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it. You know we don't agree in a lot of respects and I don't think you need some man to take care of you... you know how to take care of yourself." Mary might have been flattered under any other circumstances. "And this isn't Victorian times or whatever era your father chooses to live in, so I'm not worried about besmirching your virtue, either."

"Considering I've a child already, it was long gone before you," remarked Mary brusquely, wondering when he would get to the point. Another thought occurred to her. "Besides... I thought you didn't want to marry."

Tom was quiet for a moment. Mary wondered if maybe she had him before he sighed. "I don't. Not really." She wished he hadn't said anything. It was as if, up until now, a part of her had hoped he might have changed his mind. "But... it would be different. For us." She averted her gaze, a lump in her throat. "I think we need to face the fact that nobody will want to be involved with either of us. Not for a long while," said Tom. "Which is why I don't think it would be a bad idea to consider marriage."

God, he had no idea how much that hurt to hear. It was no better than those pacts— _if we aren't both married_ _at forty_ sort of thing friends made in uni when they were single and feeling lonely. He wasn't even pretending that he had any hopes of this evolving into something serious, going on and on about how he would never love anyone again. He hadn't even bothered to get down on one knee!

It was all this, this bubbling resentment and sadness that made Mary's temper boil over. Being weepy about this wasn't an option— Not in front of him, at least. She had cried enough tears in front of him over the course of the last couple of weeks to last her a lifetime. Her only option was lashing out.

"Speak for yourself," she said, finally rising to her feet. "I've never had any problems attracting men before and I doubt it will be a problem in future."

"Mary—"

"Matthew hadn't even been dead a year and I had _two_ men chasing after me," she reminded him. "If being widowed isn't off-putting enough, I'm certain plenty of men will be willing to overlook this." She seemed to have silenced him. Tom was staring at her, expression unreadable. He was oblivious to how thoughtless he was being, how much he was hurting her— "So I don't need to worry about settling for you."

Mary wished she hadn't said that. She had meant to hurt him, but she was convinced the one she had injured most was herself... especially when Tom's lips parted, likely ready to rightfully chastise her. Unable to deal with that right now, she stormed off, her footsteps loud as she went up the stairs. If she were even in a slightly more lucid state of mind, she would have thought to be more quiet to keep from rousing Sybbie and George but she was past that.

She collapsed in bed, not bothering to change. All she wanted to do was to somehow escape her life, as she suspected she had just ruined it.

Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes and Mary knew there was no point in blaming it on her hormones. She felt as if her heart, which she had felt was so cold and empty for so long, was now shattered into a million pieces.

She had no idea how much time passed between crying and dozing off, but her slumber was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Her eyes snapped open into the dark bedroom. Her pillow was still damp with her tears. Disoriented and dazed as she was, she had enough conscious thought to stop her making any noise. She let her eyes fall shut as she heard Tom walk quietly through her bedroom, footfalls dampened by the carpet.

She felt movement beside her. Her muscle tensed almost involuntarily. She breathed in, preparing herself for the inevitable sinking weight on the opposite side of the bed as he crawled in.

Except he didn't. Tom gathered up his pillows before walking back to the door. Mary felt confusion wash over her as the door opened again before closing. She counted to sixty, waiting for him to return, even as she heard him walk to down the stairs. She rolled over, opening her eyes to a darkened ceiling.

She felt like an idiot... probably because one. In what possible universe would he want to stay in the same bed as her after what she had said to him? Mary turned her head, staring at the empty space beside her, unspeakably sad.

Why was she like this? Why did she always feel the need to hurt the people she cared about the most? About the only people in her life that she was confident weren't looking down on her in some way or another were George and Sybbie, but she supposed that was because they didn't know any better. Her family hated her, Anna and Thomas were certainly questioning her judgement, and now she had turned Tom against her.

She didn't sleep easily that night— it was nearly impossible to. Her mind kept circling back to their argument; it would have been so easy for her to hold her tongue. Mary had also become accustomed to Tom lying beside her, touching her in some way. Without his steady, constant breathing, she was at a loss, unable to get comfortable and feeling as lonely as she had when Matthew had died.

Mary wondered how bad things would be in the morning. She wasn't sure how she would manage if Tom decided that her harsh words were the straw that broke the camel's back. What if he left, taking Sybbie with him? What if he wanted nothing to do with her or the babies, realizing she was too much to deal with?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hand falling onto her slightly rounded stomach, voice breaking. Her eyes closed shut. She wasn't sure who she was speaking to— Tom or the twins. Nevertheless, Mary knew that if her cruelty was the reason her next children would grow up without a father, she would never be able to forgive herself.

* * *

Mary didn't want to leave her bed when she finally awoke. She was perfectly willing to stay there all day— that is, until she felt the nausea return.

With a groan, Mary stood up, battling the discomfort as she peeled off her clothes from the night before, changing into a pair of grey leggings and a baggy tee shirt. It was almost too warm a day for the leggings, but Mary didn't have any clean shorts with an elastic band to accommodate her growing body... even the leggings didn't fit right anymore. It was time for new maternity clothes. Ordinarily, the opportunity for a new chance to shop would have pleased her, but this morning her spirits were low.

Mary vainly hoped that Tom would still be asleep when she made it downstairs, but instead she saw the empty couch, his pillows still propped on the arm rest. She winced... his back was likely killing him right now. The sound of running water and humming told her he was doing the dishes... which meant he was in the kitchen. With her medicine.

Cursing herself for even taking it out there, Mary walked into the kitchen as quietly as possible. However, Tom noticed her nonetheless and greeted her with a, "Morning," without bothering to turn around as she stood by the counter, pill bottle in hands.

_Fuck._ She was frozen. "Morning," she said back before twisting open the bottle. She shook the pill out into her open palm, ready to reach into the cupboard for a glass when a full glass of water was clunked down next to her. Mary stared at it— or rather, at the spot where his retreating hand had been. "Thanks," she said, popping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it down.

"No problem."

Mary continued to gulp the water, waiting to see if he would say anything else. The water was half drained when he walked back over to the sink.

Mary set the glass down on the countertop, leaning forward. _I'm sorry,_ she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say it. The words were on the tip of her tongue, and yet to do so would feel like surrender... even though she wanted to.

At the very least, his gesture with the water proved he didn't hate her entirely. If she was lucky, he didn't hate her at all. "You didn't have to sleep on the couch," she said finally, looking at the cupboard and imagining his face.

"Didn't think you'd want me."

_I always want you._ Yet another thought creeping from her subconscious, forbidden and dangerous in equal measure. "You shouldn't pay attention to the things I say," she said instead, still looking at the cupboard, eyes tracing over the grains of wood. "Especially when I am angry."

"I know that." The dishes clinked together in the sink. Mary dared to turn around. Tom was submerging his hands in the dirtied water, a bright yellow dishrag in hand as he wiped the plates. "And I'm sorry if I hurt you. I shouldn't have projected my problems into you."

Hurt her? What about him? She had been the one to deal the fatal blow, with full knowledge of how nasty she was being. There was no way he could have possibly known how deep his words would cut. "You don't have to apologize."

"I think I do. I obviously upset you."

"Tom, stop. You and I both know I was completely out of line." Why must he be so determined to be noble?

"Maybe so," he agreed. "But I was being pushy. You made your position quite clear. And for what it's worth, I think you're right." Before Mary could ask— no, demand to know what he meant, Tom clarified, "I was asking for all the wrong reasons. It was selfish of me. If— if either of us decide to marry, it should be for love. Not like what I suggesting."

Mary had never wanted to be right about that. Mary turned back to her glass of water, picking up. Before she lifted it to her lips, she said, "I suppose you're glad now I turned you down."

"You stopped us from doing something foolish." The water going down her throat was too refreshing, waking her up more instead of numbing her to this reality. She needed something numb her senses— too bad she was pregnant. She could have used a stiff drink right about now. "Of course I'm glad."

"That, and knowing you won't be married to a total bitch." She didn't know why she said it. It was one of the many thoughts resting on the tip of her tongue, one of the ones that should have remained unsaid but somehow it manifested itself.

Tom turned around, pink hands covered in soap subs. Droplets formed on the tips of his fingers, cascading down to rug beneath his feet. "Don't call yourself that," Tom told her.

"Even if it's true?"

"It's not."

"Edith would beg to differ."

"I'm not Edith," said Tom, almost sternly. "And it's not true."

Before Mary could counter his remark, she heard the telltale sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. George was descending the staircase, one small hand on the bannister. "Good morning, darling," Mary called out. "Did you sleep well?"

The previous conversation was shelved in favor of focusing on George, who immediately began telling them about a funny dream involving him in a pasture full of multicolored sheep. They pushed aside their issues and argument, listening. As Tom finished the washing up, Mary got George a bowl of cereal.

Later, while Tom busied the children in the backyard with a game of football, Mary picked up his pillows from the couch and carried them up the stairs. She put them back in his rightful place, even fluffing them. She looked at them for a moment, hoping to God that she wouldn't do anything to make them move from there again.

When night fell, Tom dismissed himself for bed as Mary watched television. She let him go, figuring he needed the rest after a night on this damnable couch. She watched until her eyelids felt heavy and forced herself up to bed.

Much to her surprise, Tom was still awake when she got there. "Hey," he said, voice low.

"Hey," she said back. She closed the door behind her, wondering if she ought to change in the bathroom. It wasn't going to be one of _those_ nights— she could already tell. Figuring there was no need to pretend there was a need for modesty, she stripped off by her dresser, slipping her pajamas on, which consisted of nothing more than a pair of boxers and a loose white tee shirt. She didn't bother ascertaining whether or not they belonged to Tom or Matthew— at this point, they had become interchangeable.

Once she was finished, Mary walked over to the bed, noticing that Tom's gaze lingered on her. She pretended she hadn't seen even though they both knew she had been watching out of the corner of her eye. She climbed into her side of the bed, only for Tom to wrap an arm around her waist. His face pressed into the back on her neck before he adjusted himself. Mary smiled to herself, feeling both comfortable and relaxed.

Her bladder woke her in the night, forcing her from the bed to bathroom. Mary didn't even bother turning on a light, hopeful she could return to bed as if nothing happened. It wasn't until she was washing her hands that suddenly she felt it. She froze, the water still running from the faucet onto her hands.

For a second, Mary wondered if she had imagined it before feeling it again— that same movement in her stomach that she had felt with George.

Without worrying about drying her hands, Mary rushed into the bedroom. "Tom," she whispered, excited and hardly able to stand it. "Tom!"

He didn't stir until Mary shook him awake, emitting a low groan. As his eyes opened in the darkness, his face screwed up. "Sorry to wake you—" she began, only to be cut off by Tom.

"You're hands are wet," he mumbled.

Mary was too impatient to dwell on how adorable he was when he was sleepy. "Never mind that. I felt one of the babies move."

Tom went from laying prostrate on the bed to sitting upright. "Did you really?" He reached out, cool hands against her stomach.

Mary nodded, her own hand seeking out his wrist, holding it there. They sat a moment longer before she felt it again. "There! Did you feel it?"

Tom shook his head, frowning. "No. I didn't." He went silent. "They must be too small yet."

He was disappointed; that much was obvious. "I'm sorry," Mary said, letting go of his wrist.

"What for?" His hand left her stomach to hold her hand. "Mary, it's amazing. I'm so glad you can feel them. They're really in there..."

"But I woke you up—"

"I'm glad you did." He leaned forward, kissing the crown of her head. "Thank you for trying to share that moment with me." She felt movement yet again but said nothing. "I'll be able to feel it later."

Mary wasn't fully confident but nevertheless she laid back down next to him. Despite knowing he would feel nothing, his hand settled on the soft swell of her stomach. Mary smiled, award he couldn't see it, and laced their fingers together before they fell asleep once more.

* * *

"Should we start thinking of names?"

"We don't even know the sexes yet," insisted Mary, though she was charmed by his enthusiasm. Last night's revelation seemed to have inspired him to think more about their children. Tom's arm was wrapped around her, his opposite hand resting on her protruding stomach.

"I know... but I'd like to talk about it. Just... Just in case."

_Just in case one of us dies._ How morbid was it, that Mary knew exactly what he wasn't saying? She supposed it was understandable; after everything they had gone through, there was no wonder there was a lingering sense of paranoia. Add a pandemic into the mix and it didn't seem so ridiculous.

"Alright," she said, letting her own hand join his. Their fingers intertwined. "Do you have any ideas?"

Tom shrugged. "A few. But I was thinking... Do you mind if their middle names are Irish?"

"Of course not." Sybbie's was— she supposed that was as good an idea as any. She hadn't really let herself think that far ahead quite yet. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"You do?" Mary was surprised by the bemusement on his face. Before she could ask, he hurriedly said, "It's just... well, I remembered that you and Matthew had a middle name. For a girl." He looked nervous. "I didn't know if you wanted to use it."

"I'm surprised you remembered," remarked Mary, genuinely taken aback. She wouldn't have expected him to recall that. Her and Matthew had never been able to agree on a girl's name, only settling in the middle name Isobel. Matthew used to tease her by suggesting they call their daughter Andromeda, which Mary had staunchly refused amongst giggles.

It was strange, she realized, to be laying in this bed with Tom, the same place her and Matthew had been when they brainstormed names for their little prince or princess, now thinking up names for their own babies.

"I remembered hearing you mention it. A few times." Tom seemed a little awkward, somewhat comfortable. "If... if we have a girl, would you want to use it?"

Mary shook her head. "I'd rather think of something new," she said. The idea of using the names she picked out with Matthew didn't seem right. "It's our babies. We ought to think up something special for them... unless you and Sybil had a name you wanted to use?" she added quickly, not wanting to step on any toes.

Tom shook his, a faraway look in his eyes. "No," he said. "We didn't have any names picked out." He was quiet for a moment before adding, "She wanted to wait. She said we'd know once we met the baby what to call it. If I had known what she thought... well, Sybbie would have had a different name."

Mary smiled a bit sadly. "Well, I think it suits her." She reached out, taking his hand. The small smile on his face made her own a little less melancholy.

"She's a lot like her, isn't she?" asked Tom. Before Mary could affirm it, he added, "But she's a lot like you, too."

Mary's eyes widened. "I hope not." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. As Tom's eyebrows furrowed, she quickly said, "Sybil and I didn't have that much in common, not really... and I hate to think I might have been a negative influence on her."

Tom shook his head. "I'm _glad_ she's like you." His grip on her hand tightened for just a moment, a comforting squeeze. "You're my best friend and believe it or not, I like you. And I hope our babies will be like you, too."

Mary felt herself soften. "Well, I'm hoping they'll be like you," she told him, gazing up. She didn't say anything more, worried she would reveal herself.

"I'm sure they'll be like the both of us," he said, laying back of his pillow staring up at the ceiling, hands still intertwined. "And I'm sure they'll bring plenty of surprises with them, too."

"They already have," pointed out Mary, thinking of how nearly everything involving them had been nothing short of shocking. As tiring as it was, dealing with all the developments, Mary found herself even more excited to see what they would bring once they were here.

Tom chuckled before pulling her close to him. Mary didn't allow herself to read anything more into the gesture. She knew she would just get hurt.

* * *

Granny called one afternoon, while Tom was working and Mary was working in the living room. She took her phone and stepped into the kitchen to be away from the sound of the power tools outside. "Hello, Granny."

"Hello. Is Tom there?"

"He's working right now. Why, what's happened?" Her mind jumped to a million horrendous conclusions. Had she hurt herself? Did she need to go to the hospital? Was it the coronavirus?

"Nothing's happened. I wanted to make sure I could speak to you alone." Before Mary could ask why, Granny inquired, "Just exactly how long have you been in love with Tom?"

Mary nearly dropped the phone. "How did you know?" She whispered. There was no sense in denying it; if Granny could see it, she would easily see through any lie.

"I've had my suspicions for quite some time... and I know how you are."

Mary sighed out her nose, leaning against the countertop. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I didn't realize it until a few months ago."

"Before or after you realized you were pregnant?"

"Before."

"You've not told him yet, have you?"

"No. I haven't."

"That's what I thought." Mary couldn't tell if Granny was displeased or gloating that she'd been right. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. "For what it's worth, I think you should tell him."

"There's no point in it."

"Why not?"

"Because I already know how he feels and there's no sense in getting rejected again," Mary ground out.

There was a brief silence. "What do you mean? I thought you hadn't told him."

"I didn't." She had, technically, the night of the botched proposal. She didn't really think it counted though, not when he assumed she meant it in a purely platonic way. "He told me that he only sees me as a friend."

"Forgive me, my dear, but I don't believe that for a second." Before she could protest, Granny was saying, "I don't doubt that he said it, I just cannot believe that is the truth."

"Well, it is."

"I'm sure you think it is, but I can see plainly that he is in love with you. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

Mary shook her head, a lump in her throat. How could Granny _see_ anything? She hadn't seen her grandmother in person since March, just after Tom had broken with Lucy. "You're right. It doesn't make sense." Nothing about this whole thing with Tom had ever made sense but Mary was more confused now than she had ever been in her life. "But please... don't give me any false hope. I need to accept things as they are to save myself from any pain." As it was, she had felt quite enough of it already.

Granny sighed wearily. "Very well. We'll say no more of the matter... but I don't believe Tom is being honest with you."

"Believe me, he's had plenty of opportunity to tell me," she told Granny, starting to grow irritated by this conversation. "Can we please talk about something else now?"

They talked about this and that, mainly updating Mary on the goings on of the family that she was no longer privy to. It saddened her to be reminded of the wall between her and her family, but Mary was grateful to hear all was still well. It only served as a distraction for a time before Granny hung up and Mary left to her thoughts.

Tom had already stated how he felt. Mary shouldn't have even been contemplating Granny's words... and yet how else was she supposed to explain it? She knew she ought to just ask him outright but she wanted to protect her heart. Given what he had said during his disaster of a proposal, it seemed highly unlikely her feelings were reciprocated. What was the point of rubbing even more salt into the wound?

Besides, Mary told herself, pouring herself a glass of water, what they had right now was better than losing him entirely— not just for her, but for the babies and Sybbie and George. Maybe it wasn't traditional, maybe everyone would think they were mad, but in a strange sort of way, she was happy, which was more than she could say about the past few years of her life. Even if she was to be hurt in the end, she would always have these memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise these two are very close to finally having that very important conversation! :) 
> 
> I've reached the point in my semester where big projects are due and final exams are approaching, so if there's no update in the coming weeks, that will be the reason why.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading each week, I really do appreciate it!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and for the well wishes! Fortunately I was able to find enough time this week to get this chapter ready. I hope you enjoy it!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty One**

Now that George and Sybbie knew what was going on, there was no sense in Mary traveling to her next appointment to Dr. Ryder's alone. They woke relatively early in the morning, Mary still tired and sorely wishing she could steal Tom's coffee. Sybbie was full of excitement, chipper as ever, whereas George was drowsy and practically falling asleep before they pulled out of the driveway.

Mary went in alone, of course, though she desperately wished she could bring Tom in with her. That desire was only heightened when Dr. Ryder informed her that he could tell her the sexes that day. "Would you like to know?"

Mary hesitated. This was an important step. Just weeks ago, Anna had learned her and John were expecting a girl. Thomas and Jimmy had the option of learning from their surrogate but had decided against it.

There had been discussions over the matter and Mary did want to know, and she knew Tom did, too. It didn't seem quite fair that she learn first and tell Tom later. When he noted her reluctance to answer, Dr. Ryder proposed, "How about I just write it down and put it an envelope and you can open it if you want to?"

"That would be just perfect," said Mary, pleased there was such an easy solution. She wanted Tom to find out at the same time as her, just as he would if everything was normal.

The whole ride home, she was practically bursting at the seams, though she managed a calm, collected façade that betrayed none of her excitement. The children kept her distracted, asking questions about the doctor and about babies in general. Tom helped her explain things, which was something of a relief.

It wasn't until they returned home and the children went upstairs to play that Mary let Tom in on the secret. "I didn't know if you'd want George and Sybbie to find out with us or not," she said quietly as she led him to the couch, even though the children were far from earshot. "Besides, I didn't want to deliver such news while you were driving." She didn't need to clarify why.

Tom nodded, eyes trained on the envelope in her hands. "Fair enough," he said, equally quiet. "Should— should we find out right now?" She nodded.

Mary let Tom open it up, the suspense building with each moment that passed, even though it couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds total. "A girl and a boy," Tom said, reading the words written on the paper aloud. He turned to her, now grinning. "A girl and a boy, Mary!"

Before she could really process what was happening, Tom leaned in for a quick kiss. When they parted, Mary realized she was crying. "Damn hormones," she said, reaching up to wipe them away only for Tom to use his thumb to brush some away.

"You are happy, aren't you?" asked Tom, a worried look crossing his face.

"Of course I am." How could she not be? "It's only the hormones, I promise. Remember how weepy I got with George?"

"That's right. Didn't you once cry about dropping a piece of cheese on the floor?"

She scowled at him. "Don't tease me. I've plenty of ammunition to launch at you and I won't feel sorry about using it."

Her threats didn't seem to sober Tom up but he agreed, "You're right. I should know better than to mess with you. I'm sure all these years of being my best friend means you've plenty of embarrassing moments."

Her smile faded. _Best friend._ It wasn't that the title no longer held any value to her— no, she wholeheartedly considered him to be her best friend still. But the reminder that it was all she was to him hurt more than it ought.

But she reminded herself to smile. This was, after all, a happy occasion. "I suppose now we can start thinking about names," she said aloud.

"Do you have any ideas yet, then?"

Mary shook her head. "I've not let myself get that far ahead yet. Have you?" She remembered their earlier conversation about middle names.

He hesitated before shaking his head. "No, not really." She could tell he wasn't being wholly honest, but she would let it go. For now, anyway.

* * *

"We should tell my mother soon," Tom said one night as they laid in bed, clothes strewn across the floor. Why they even bothered with the pretense of wearing pajamas anymore was beyond Mary... it always seemed as though they were never worn for very long. "About the babies."

"Alright," said Mary, not knowing exactly how to respond. He had wanted to wait before telling his family, saying it would be best to hold off. She suspected learning the genders was a sign to him that they should know. She didn't know Kieran or his mother well enough to really assess how true that was, but she supposed they might as well learn now...

"Does this weekend sound good to you?" asked Tom, rolling on his side to face her.

"Sure." Mary knew she didn't exactly sound enthusiastic... though truth be told, she wasn't. She didn't _know_ Tom's family— she had met them at Sybbie's christening and they'd seemed nice enough then, but Kieran had obviously disapproved of Tom's transformation since leaving Ireland and his mother Niamh had fussed over him, insisting he was still her baby. She wasn't quite certain how either of them would react, but given almost everyone else's reaction, she wasn't hopeful.

Tom's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?" He murmured, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Mary nodded, the slight gesture making her feel better. "Just a little nervous," she admitted.

Tom shook his head. "Don't be." His thumb began idly stroking her cheek. "Mam'll be glad to have more grandchildren to spoil."

Mary blinked. Tom had taken a couple brief trips to Ireland in the past with Sybbie to visit her... but now Mary realized she would likely be a part of this too, once it was safe. "Do you want to go visit her?" Mary asked, her own hand settling on his chest. "When this is all over and we have the babies?"

Tom nodded before then saying, "Or maybe she could come here?" He suggested. "Once the addition is built... well, we'll have a spare room for her. For awhile."

Mary tensed up, reminded of the addition. After weeks of indecision from Tom and mounting frustration from Mary and a pressure to make sure there would be enough room in time for their growing family, she had made the executive decision to have three rooms built on. It was another painful reminder that all of this was merely temporary. One day, he wouldn't be laying here beside her and would instead be in one of those rooms.

Traitorous tears began springing to her eyes, so she rolled into her side, facing the wall instead of Tom. "We can discuss it in more detail later," she said, blinking rapidly, somehow managing to keep her voice level. These damn hormones... if she weren't pregnant, she would have had no problems remaining composed... At least she liked to think so. "We had best go to sleep now, though."

"You're probably right," agreed Tom, completely oblivious as a tear rolled down Mary's cheek, the lone droplet clinging to her nose. "Goodnight." The lamp light turned off and Mary reached up to wipe it away.

* * *

They were doing dishes when Tom's phone sounded. "D'you mind checking that?" asked Tom loudly to be heard over the sound of running water and clinking dishes, holding up his gloved hands. Mary still felt they looked ridiculous, but she empathized. She loathed the touch of wet food. "It might be Mam or Kieran." He had been trying to get ahold of them both to figure out the best time to set up a Zoom meeting.

"Of course," said Mary as Tom angled himself around, pushing his hip close to her. It took all of her strength to not laugh at the strange stance he had adopted. She reached into his pocket, seeing a message... from Lucy. Her smile faded as she typed in his password.

The last texts they had exchanged were from mid March... just before her and Tom had... well, before anything had started between them. It mostly consisted of links to various new articles on the coronavirus and politics. As innocuous as it was, Mary's stomach twisted unpleasantly... she hadn't realize he was still in contact with her after they had broken things off. Worst of all was the newest text.

_LUCY: Hey Tom, I know it's been a while, but I was wondering if maybe we could maybe meet up sometime soon? I've missed you and with everything opening up again now, I was hoping we might be able to pick things up again if you're interested_

It was an innocent message, one that Mary had no right to be angry over... but she still felt irritated nevertheless. It was the cruel reminder that before the world had turned upside down and Tom was moving into her bedroom, he had been with someone else. Lucy was, as loath as Mary was to admit it, a very nice girl. She was kind and strong and pretty, all the things Mary would want for him if she didn't want him for herself. Tom had stated that he doubted she would want to be with him... but what if she did? She had been perfectly understanding about their peculiar relationship beforehand.

"Who is it?"

"Lucy," replied Mary, blinking rapidly. She wasn't sure how to feel— was she angry? Sad? Why was she even bothering to speculate when nothing was determined just yet.

Tom's motions stilled. "Oh." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Well... that's a surprise."

"Is it really?" She asked dully. She wondered if she ought to slip the phone back into his pocket but that seemed such a personal gesture, when she was actively looking at a text from his ex-girlfriend... or maybe his soon-to-be girlfriend, if she was willing to overlook things.

"Well, I haven't heard from her in a while," said Tom, oblivious to Mary's dark mood. She locked his phone again, holding it outstretched for him to take back. "I'm a little surprised, that's all. What did she have to say?"

"She wants to get back together with you."

Tom stopped everything. He turned off the sink. "She does?"

Mary nodded, lowering her arm and his phone when she realized he wasn't about to accept it. "What will you say?"

"What do you think I'm going to say?" Tom was little more brusque than normal as he began prying the rubber gloves off. "I'm going to tell her about the babies."

"Before you tell your own mother? Before you tell Kieran?" He stopped, one bare hand mid tug at the middle finger on his other glove. Feeling particularly spiteful, Mary asked, "Why are you in such a hurry to respond to her, anyway? Do you think if you respond as quickly as possible, she'll be willing to overlook it?"

"Of course not." Tom had pulled off both gloves now. He took the phone from her hands and said, "D'you mind finishing up? I'm going to give her a call."

"Do you want to get back together with her?" demanded Mary, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't think that will be a big factor in the trajectory of things," Tom told her wearily.

"That's not what I asked."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm pregnant, Tom!"

"I know that," Tom said, so frustratingly level and even.

"I think I have the right to know what you intend to do in your life, if you have any say in the matter, considering it will affect our children." Mary wasn't looking at him now, eyes diverted towards the floor.

Tom let out a sigh. "I like Lucy," he admitted, causing Mary's temper to flare. "She's very nice, very sweet... but I think this is a lot more than she ever asked for."

"That doesn't answer my question," Mary gritted out. Why was it so hard to get a simple answer out of him? As much as even she hated to admit that Lucy was kind and smart and all those wonderful things, it hurt to hear Tom talk about them, as if he still clearly viewed her as a romantic interest.

"I don't understand why it matters! Nothing is going to change. I'll still be here for you."

That wasn't enough. It should have been— it was more than what some had been granted— hell, it was more than what either of them had been granted when they were raising their children, but at this point in her life, it was completely unacceptable.

"Why can't you just answer the question?"

"Because I don't see what difference it makes!"

"Then what is the harm in answering it?" countered Mary.

"Plenty, as you seem angry right now and I don't know why you are even asking," Tom responded tightly.

They simply kept talking in circles, over and over. The loop had to break at some point. She only wished it hadn't been her.

"Because I don't want you to!"

The exclamation had flown past her lips without permission. Mary had froze instantly, wishing she hadn't said anything to start with. She had really put her foot in it...

Tom was speechless as well, brows furrowed in confusion. The silence that had fallen over them was weighty and oppressive. Mary felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Then Tom blinked. "Alright." He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Mary finally inhaled again, letting herself be pulled into a false sense of security as she turned back to the sink, one that didn't involve Tom adding a couple seconds later, "Can I ask why?"

She froze. Every muscle in her body tensed. Still, determined to maintain a veneer of her usual aloofness, she replied, "You can, but there's no guarantee I'll answer."

"I think I deserve some sort of answer," Tom said, now sounding somewhat frustrated. Still, Mary stared ahead, reaching for a plate. "Is it— Do you not like her, then? Lucy?"

Why was he doing this? "No... Lucy's very nice."

"Then what is it?"

Mary gnawed on the inside of her lip, lowering the plate down. Surely, he had to know... What other explanation was there? "Please don't make me say it."

"I need to hear it," insisted Tom, "because I don't know what else it is. I can't see inside your head."

How could he not know? She couldn't say those three words to him, not while she washed dishes in their kitchen sink and their children were just in the next room over and certainly not when she was jealous and angry. She refused to... So instead Mary stared straight ahead, tried to keep her voice as even as possible before saying, "I have feelings for you."

She was met with silence. Mary dared to turn her head to the side, ever so slightly, to watch him nod in the periphery of her vision. "Okay," was all he said, and the single word felt like a cannonball being launched at her. Mary stilled once again, even once he shuffled beside her, reaching for his gloves yet again and resumed doing the dishes.

_Well,_ thought Mary, bravely managing to reign her tears in, a lump in her throat. _At least I didn't tell him I loved him._ How would he have responded to that? " _Thanks for letting know?"_

Once the dishes were cleaned and dried, Tom began removing his gloves once more. "I'm going to go out for a drive," he told her, "And when I come back, we'll... we'll talk about this, alright?"

Mary didn't think she could speak... at least not without sobbing. God, why was she crying so much lately? She could only blame so much of it on her pregnancy... So she nodded instead, feeling it was rude to not give him a semblance of an answer.

He seemed to accept this. He moved towards the door, presumably to put on his shoes. Mary didn't budge an inch, staring steadfastly at the wall. _Don't cry. Don't you dare cry._ "I'll be back. I promise." She then heard the door open and close.

It took another five minutes before Mary felt she had suitably mastered her emotions. She walked into the living room, where George and Sybbie were rewatching _Frozen 2_ for the umpteenth time and sat beside them. She hoped they hadn't heard them in the kitchen; they had tried to shield them away from any disagreements between them. When Sybbie asked where Tom was, Mary was pleased to levelly report that he was out for a drive. "He'll be back in a while," she told her, eyes pointed up at the television, but not registering anything that was going on.

But when Tom wasn't back in half an hour, Mary found she couldn't put on a show anymore, not even for the children. Her thoughts were consumed solely with worst case scenarios, such as Tom arriving home with his mind made up that he and Sybbie were leaving, that he wanted nothing to do with her... or, an even worse case scenario, that he was currently in a wreck somewhere, much like Matthew.

"I'm going to bed early," she told George and Sybbie, momentarily distracting them from their movie. With their eyes on her, there was an even greater effort to pretend all was well and that she was completely at ease. "If your dad isn't back by the time the movie's over, you need to put yourselves to bed, alright?"

George and Sybbie agreed, exchanging their good nights with her. They took her mind off of things, but only briefly. Her worries and fears returned the moment she began climbing the steps.

She didn't even bother to change once she reached her bedroom. Mary simply curled up in her bed, exhausted and terrified. She felt sick to her stomach...

It didn't take too long for the tears to start falling, the dam she had hastily constructed in the kitchen failing once she knew there was no one around to judge her or worry about her. Her hand came to rest on her stomach. What was she going to do, if Tom decided he didn't want them anymore, either? It was an unlikely outcome, she would admit, but she wasn't sure if she could handle raising three children on her own... And what if she never saw Sybbie ever again? Another choked sob escaped her.

About ten minutes passed before suddenly Mary's phone screen lit up. There was an incoming phone call from Tom... As frightened as she was, she answered. "Hello?"

"Hi."

He said nothing else, so she asked, "Where are you?" She cringed when she realized how obvious it was that she had been crying.

"I'm parked outside your office." There was a pause before he said, "I was just calling to let you know I'll be home soon... and so I could hear your voice." Mary was far too sensible and far too afraid to let herself be carried away by romantic notions of what he might mean by that. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," she repeated with some irritation now.

"Well, I'll be home soon."

"Alright."

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back, wondering why he was doing this, what purpose it served. When they finally hung up, Mary laid back down on her pillow.

It seemed like hours passed before Mary heard the bedroom door creak open. "Hey," Tom whispered, walking into the room. He sat on the edge of her bed.

"Hey." Mary sat up, relieved he hadn't turned on any of the lights... just as Tom turned on his lamp. She winced, squinting.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I just... Well, I think it's best we..." He stopped, sighing and running his hand through his hair. "I'm no good at this."

Mary didn't ask what he meant, too afraid of the answer. He sighed yet again before reaching for her hand. "When... when you said that you have feelings for me... How serious were you?"

Mary furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... Like, how long have you felt this way?"

Mary swallowed. "It's hard to say... but I've known since we... since we kissed at Christmas."

Tom nodded, then took one of her hands in between his. He wasn't looking at her, though, which made her worry. Was he about to deal the fatal blow?

"I texted Lucy. I told her I wasn't interested." His thumb ran over her knuckles, a gentle sensation that contrasted greatly with her tended muscles and accelerated heart rate. "You were right. I should wait to tell Mam and Kieran first before telling just anybody." He continued gazing down at her hand, a long silence before he said, "For what it's worth, even if I had told her and she was willing to overlook it, I wouldn't have gotten back together with her."

Mary didn't know what to make of this... and if it. He seemed to be simply voicing his stream of consciousness but she began wondering if he was just stalling, to put off the inevitable and avoid hurting her. She had a feeling if their positions were reversed, she would do the same.

Well, she had felt enough of that. She had tortured herself all evening and for the past few weeks. Surely it would be better to rip the plaster off now instead of prolonging this attempt at kindness that would only hurt. "Tom," she finally said, "It's alright. I know that— I know you don't feel as I do. There's no need to drag this out."

There was silence. Mary stared down at their hands, still linked together. She moved to pull her hand away, only for Tom to hold on tighter. When she looked up, she met his gaze, his blue eyes burning into her own. "Mary," he whispered before leaning forward. Mary felt his lips press against hers before letting her eyes fall shut.

She didn't quite know how to feel. What was this? Did this mean he really did feel the same? Or was it his way of showing her one last kindness before saying goodbye? Nevertheless, whatever it was, Mary savored it, clinging to the front of his shirt and pouring everything into it.

They parted after some minutes, panting. Tom reached out, stroking her cheek with his thumb with a curious expression. For whatever reason, that look prompted a desire for honesty within Mary. "I love you," she finally said aloud, afraid to watch yet also too frightened to blink for one second. Who knew how much longer he would be here? She needed to soak him in as long as he was here. "Not just as a friend," she clarified as well, recalling the confusion during his half hearted proposal.

Tom's mouth fell open in what seemed to be surprise but he didn't look angry, which was a relief. Several agonizing seconds passed in silence before Tom leaned forward again, kissing her forehead and pulling her closer to him.

"I can't say it back," he whispered, and Mary took in a sharp breath. The sting was quickly alleviated by a, "Not yet, anyway." She felt his hand move up her back, to her hair, where his fingers began playing nervously with the ends. "But I do care about you. I have feeling for you. And not just as a friend," he added, echoing her words.

Mary pulled away ever so slightly, meeting his eye. "You do?" She hadn't allowed herself to even imagine he felt anything close to the same way.

"I do," He said, lips brushing the top of her head. "And I have for a while now."

It took a moment before Mary could process that. "How long?" She wondered if it was the same fateful night.

"Longer than I've wanted to admit to myself." That didn't quite answer her question but he followed up with, "I don't really know. It's been awhile. Maybe even the night you broke up with Charles."

Mary frowned, confused. That was so long ago! "What do you mean?"

"When I picked you up at the station," explained Tom, his eyes suddenly far away. Mary quickly realized he was still confused on the timeline... which wasn't any wonder, given the scattered order she had given him. "Just— you were in that red dress and you looked so beautiful."

_Beautiful._ Maybe it was stupid but her lips quirked up at that. She hadn't felt beautiful that night but knowing he thought she had filled her with a warmth she couldn't describe.

"Even back then?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders, anything but certain. "That's when I started thinking about it. When I started thinking about you differently. And I think part of it was because of what Charles said to you, because then I started overanalyzing everything—"

She couldn't help but laugh. "So," she said, amused, "it was a self fulfilling prophecy on his part, then?"

Tom let out a laugh of his own, though there was a softness in his eyes. "I don't know. I think maybe it was inevitable. Sooner or later..."

"Seems like we picked later," said Mary quietly, a little taken aback by his talk of inevitability, as if it were written in the stars or something equally romantic. Mary was hardly the sentimental type, driven more by pragmatism, but any bruised feelings were softened by his words.

Tom smiled again, wider now. "And then... Well, with Henry... I'd get jealous," he admitted sheepishly.

"What?" Her mouth fell open. "But... you were the one to push me towards him in the first place!"

"I seem to recall having some notion about seeing you happily married would drive away any thoughts like the ones I was entertaining. I certainly hadn't had them when you were married to Matthew." His time was dry, almost as if he was mocking himself. "And I really did think he would make you happy... and that was all I really wanted. To see you happy." His thumb was rubbing her knuckles. "And I thought maybe you wouldn't want me, anyway."

The last part was the most unbelievable to her. "And why ever not?"

"Because of Sybil."

Mary supposed she wasn't too surprised by that. "That's funny. I thought the same about you." She was quiet, contemplating things for a moment before asking, "So it doesn't bother you, then?"

"If it bothered me, I don't think we'd have ever slept together," Tom pointed out with a smile. Mary let out a soft laugh, supposing that made sense. She felt silly now for not thinking of that herself. "It did. A little. At first. And sometimes I wonder..." Tom trailed off, unknowingly raising alarm bells in Mary's mind. "But you understand me better than anyone else, Mary. And I love being around you and the life we have together. If it weren't for you, I honestly don't know where me and Sybbie would be."

Mary didn't quite know what to say. Her eyes had filled with tears despite her best efforts to contain herself. "Oh, Mary, don't cry," Tom said, sounding almost panicked.

She shook her head, blinking rapidly to try and stop them. "Don't worry. This is because I'm happy." She sniffled a little bit before meeting his eyes. "So very happy."

Tom smiled, face lighting up. He leaned forward to kiss her and at once it felt different than any of the many kisses they had already shared. It was slow and sweet, tender and full of emotions they had been holding back. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

"So," Mary said once they finally parted, a little out of breath, "what are we, then?"

"I think we're past the point of taking things slow," Tom said, which caused Mary to laugh. "But I suppose we ought to try and see what it's like, being together officially... So I would say we're dating."

Mary nodded, butterflies in her stomach. It almost seemed silly, that even now she would be so affected by him, but Mary couldn't help it. She loved him. "I like the sounds of that," she admitted, leaning forward ever so slightly to prompt him into closing that gap again.

The rest of the night was spent laying in one another's arms, talking and exchanging kisses. They discussed almost everything, from moments where they wished they could tell the truth to figuring out what to tell the children.

"I wish I knew how you felt before I told them to build the third room. We won't even need it now," Mary said, in significantly lighter spirits than before and in a good humor to tease him.

"It'll be nice to have a spare. Next time Edith needs to stay the night, I won't have to sleep on the couch," Tom replied, smirking.

"I hope you realize now that you'll never need to sleep on that torture device again," Mary told him, her tone suggesting jest but serious. This was as much his room now as it was hers. Even if they argued, she didn't want him to leave.

Tom smiled. "I don't know. I think it will be inevitable once the twins are here that we'll fall asleep on that couch many more times."

Mary managed to suppress a shudder. She recalled all too well those months of her depression when Tom would be knocking on her bedroom to bring a hungry George in for her to feed. That had been the one part of parenting in that period of time that she had been involved in.

"Well," she said, tilting her head down to look at their intertwined hands. Though it was a commonplace act for them and far from the most intimate touch they'd shared, she felt closer to him now that ever before. "If you do fall asleep out there, it will be your own fault." Then, having learned the power that came with actually voicing what she was thinking, she looked up to meet his eyes again. "You'll always have a place in this bed with me."

Tom's gaze softened even more, lips parting. "Even if we fight?"

"Even then."

He ducked his head down. "I thought you were trying to get rid of me."

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Because of the third bedroom. I thought you made up your mind. That you wanted things to go back to the way they were before."

She shook her head. "I only did that because I thought you didn't want to stay in here."

In spite of everything, Tom let out a loud laugh. Mary was quite confident George and Sybbie could hear it downstairs. "God, we've been stupid, haven't we?"

"All I'll admit to is that if we had just opened our mouths and talked to one another, we could have saved ourselves quite a bit of money," said Mary, thinking of that third bedroom.

"It'll be alright," said Tom, resting his chin on her shoulder, scooting closer to her. "My Mam can use it when she comes over. It might be simpler to invite her here after everything is over. Can you imagine traveling with four children?"

"God," breathed Mary at the thought and they both laughed.

It wasn't all light conversation full of laughs. They discussed the serious things, too.

"It wasn't that I didn't like her," Tom admitted in reference to Lucy. Mary mentally told herself not to be jealous— after all, he was laying with _her_ in bed— but it was hard to listen to her boyfriend (the word thrilled her more than it ought to) talk about another woman. "But I think I what it really was is I was trying to distract myself from you."

Distract himself from _her_. Not from Sybil, but from her. Heading that startled her, but in a good way. However, it brought forth more questions than answers. "Have things changed for you, then?" she asked. When Tom gave her a strange look, Mary hurriedly explained, "It's just— Well, when you—" She was reluctant to bring up the botched proposal. "You just always said you weren't ready to move on. From Sybil." Mary wasn't sure if she could stand the thought of him changing his mind.

Tom waited before answering. Mary was practically dying from the suspense when he finally said, "I'll always love her. She was the first person I loved. I was going to marry her. But that doesn't change how I feel about you." She watched his Adam's apple Bob in his throat. "And when I said all those things to you about not being able to ever move on from her, I didn't imagine I could ever feel the way I do with you."

Those words filled her with immense relief and happiness. It wasn't a sweeping declaration of love nor some promise that they would be together forever, but it was enough for her right now. Still he continued, "I know I've not done a good job showing you how much you mean to me... and I know I've hurt you." It was now he reached up, hand cradling her jaw. She felt like she couldn't breathe as he bestowed her with an especially tender look, his thumb brushing across her lips. "And I'll do everything in my power not to do it ever again."

_Ever_. That word suggested a sort of finality. Mary met his gaze, speechless. Her grip on his hand tightened before they leaned in to share yet another kiss, as if to seal the promise.

* * *

The following day, Mary felt more nervous than ever. She kept checking her appearance in the mirror, even after Tom insisted she looked beautiful... which, admittedly, was part of the reason she kept double checking, just to hear him say those words again.

"Don't be nervous," he assured her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm as they readied themself for the Zoom call with Niamh and Kieran.

It was easier said than done, but Mary couldn't resist smiling when, upon saying hello to his mother and brother, Tom said, "This is my girlfriend, Mary."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments on the last chapter and for the well wishes on my exams! I really appreciate it! Thankfully, my professors were wonderful about not trying to overburden us so as you can see, there was enough time to finish this chapter! I anticipate on there being three more chapters after this one, plus an epilogue! 
> 
> Also, a fun fact about the last chapter: There’s a scene in one of the earlier chapters where Mary and Tom discuss their respective relationships with Matthew and Sybil. Mary says that it took her a long time before she realized how she felt about Matthew, whereas Tom says he confessed before he and Sybil were even dating. The last chapter was meant to be a reversal of that, in order to show how much they’ve changed and grown :)

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty Two**

Their first date was a picnic in their backyard. Tom had laid out a blanket on the grass, a basket off to the side with napkins and two wine glasses... and some sparkling grape juice. “I know you can’t have the real stuff, but I thought it might be nice, you know... so you can at least pretend.”

It was sweet... almost as sweet as knowing he’d prepared her favorite meal, which was served by George and Sybbie, both of whom were giggling excitedly as they presented them with the chicken alfredo. Once the sliding door closed, Mary admitted, “I’m almost a little worried, leaving them alone in there.”

“Oh, I am, too,” said Tom, twirling his pasta around on his fork. “I’m sure I’ll have a mess to contend with later.”

“I’ll help wash up.”

Tom shook his head. “This evening’s about you.”

Mary wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. Despite having heard him say he cared about her, Mary still felt on edge, as if it was too good to be real. Was this only because of her? Did he really have any sort of desire to change things or was he feeling pressured because he didn’t want to lose her as friend? “It’s your date, too,” Mary told him, voice wavering ever so slightly with uncharacteristic nervousness. She glanced down, but not before she saw the concerned look in his eyes. “Not all the work needs to be put on you.”

“I know. But will you humor me? Just this once?” As if he could understand what she had been thinking, he reached out and took the one hand that wasn’t holding a glass, succeeding in melting away her apprehensions. When she dared to look up again, his gaze was now on her hand. “Next time, I promise I’ll let you be in charge.”

Mary smiled. Next time. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve made a favorable impression on you thus far to guarantee a second date,” she said, voice still that higher pitch, but this time it drew out laughter from them both.

When their dinner was finished, Tom gathered up the plates and silverware. He told her to stay seated when she tried to stand. “For dessert,” he explained. She watched his retreating form, stomach full of butterflies.

As lovely as all this was, though, Mary was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Her body was no longer the same shape she was accustomed to and sitting in the same position for long periods of time wasn’t always the best. It wasn’t until she glanced up at the darkening sky that she spread herself out on the blanket, the sun having almost retreated completely from the sky. She began counting the stars, almost not noticing Tom‘s return.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, almost amused as he sat down beside her. He offered her an ice cream bar, which was cold to the touch and pleasant contrasted against the warm air.

“Looking at the stars.” A moment or two later, Tom joined her, wiggling a bit closer so their sides touched.

“It’s nice,” Tom mused. There was a silence before he said, “You could never see them in Dublin. There was always too many lights.”

“You can see them clearly at the Abbey,” Mary told him. She sidled up closer to him, inhaling to smell his cologne. “It’s so far away from the city... nothing really obscures it.”

Their ice creams began melting and soon they were rising to their feet, Tom promising to stick them back into the freezer. “They’ll taste fine, they just won’t look so pretty,” he told her. He had to help tug her to her feet, their spot on the ground too low. “Sorry... I wasn’t thinking—“

“It’s alright.” Mary staggered for a moment or two, holding onto his cold hands. The ice creams were sitting on the blanket. She only let go when she had steadied herself. “I had a great time.”

Tom smiled, the sight making her heart melt just like the ice cream had. He offered her arm and she took it, feeling like a heroine in one of those old films.

The children were entertaining themselves, watching _Tarzan_ in the living room. George had nodded off, his face pressed into the arm of the couch, but Sybbie remained enraptured. She spared them a glance when they entered the house, giving them each warm smiles and kisses goodnight. Mary was realizing Disney+ had been a worthwhile investment.

“I’ll take care of things,” Tom promised, mouth close to Mary’s ear. “Can I escort you to your door?”

It was beyond silly, all things considered, but Mary found herself nodding. They walked up the stairs together, and when they reached the bedroom door, Tom asked, “Can I kiss you?” He sounded shy, and Mary couldn’t tell if it was an act or if he was genuinely nervous. Nevertheless, she answered by leaning forward and kissing him, arms wrapping around his neck.

It seemed as though an eternity had passed before they finally parted, but too soon at the same time. Mary was panting, forehead pressed against Tom’s. “I’ll take care of everything,” he told her yet again. “You get some rest. I’ll join you shortly.”

There was no desire to insist otherwise... only that she wished he would join her now. Still, she had not yet regained any abilities of speech, so she merely nodded, forcing herself to take a step back from him— because she knew if she didn’t, she would kiss him again and prolong it. “Don’t take too long,” she said lightly, hand reaching for the door knob but missing entirely. Thankfully, Tom didn’t seem to notice and dimly held his gaze, smiling the whole time.

Mary stepped into the darkened bedroom, only flicking on the lights once she reached the bathroom. As she readied herself for bed, she wondered if there was anything more planned for their night... or, more specifically, it she needed to even bother with pajamas. In the end, not wanting to be presumptuous, Mary wore one of Tom’s tee shirts as if it were a dress.

Tom slipped into the room a few minutes later. “That was quick,” she remarked, trying not to sound affected as he began pulling off his shirt.

“You told me not to take too long, remember?”

Actually, it getting harder and harder to remember things the more skin was exposed, especially now that Tom had turned on a lamp and made himself all the more visible.

“Besides,” Tom continued. “There wasn’t much to do, anyway. I’m letting the dishes soak and I’m letting Sybbie stay up to watch her movie.” Now only in his boxers, he leaned over, kissing Mary before pulling back to say lowly, “So you’re going to have to promise to be quiet.”

“Quiet?” She phrased it innocently, as if she had no idea what he might be referring to, but was certain he could tell.

“This is your night, remember?” His hands were at her shirt, bunching up the material in his hands and tugging. Mary let him, eyes only on him as he tossed it onto the floor. There was a moment of inaction as his eyes scanned over her, silently admiring her before kissing her again.

“You’re being awful presumptuous,” Mary managed to say as his lips began moving down her body. He was almost to her hip now. “I don’t usually sleep with men on the first date.”

“Oh?” Tom drew away, remarkably casual. He sat up. “What a shame.” He began moving, rolling over to his side of the bed, stopped only Mary reaching out, bringing him back down.

“Though... I might be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Tom, almost smugly, before pecking her lips to resume things where they had left off. Mary might have been exasperated if she weren’t so ridiculously happy.

* * *

It was both miraculous how much had changed and just how little needed to change. It was nice, finally being able to let go and no longer hide how she felt.

Most remained the same. Any changes to the way the household was run was made to accommodate Mary’s pregnancy, which meant George and Sybbie helped more with the chores. Tom was beyond wonderful with here, giving her foot massages whenever she needed and indulging her bizarre cravings.

“Thank you,” said Mary gratefully when he returned home, a package of crisps in his hand. “I don’t know why I want these so badly... I don’t even like prawn flavored crisps.” She opened up the package as Tom began removing his shirt.

“It’s no problem,” he said, though Mary couldn’t help but feel that was a lie. It was cumbersome to go out in the middle of the night to fetch her things... but he was such a good sport about it. He smiled as he rejoined her in bed. “Just as long as I can have a couple.”

Mary opened the bag, holding it open for him. He accepted it gratefully. It wasn’t until she had started eating some herself that she queried, “Should we be eating these in bed? We might get crumbs everywhere.”

“It’s too late to go downstairs,” insisted Tom. “If we do, I promise I’ll put some fresh sheets on.”

Placated, Mary continued eating. Once half the bag was gone and Mary started to set it aside, Tom tried to lean in for a kiss. She moved away, one hand on his chest, to say, “I’m sorry, but you need to brush your teeth first before we can even think of that.”

“You’ve eaten more than I have!” he protested, though he was chuckling.

“And I need to brush my teeth, too,” insisted Mary, somewhat amused. She handed him the crisps. “Take these downstairs and then brush your teeth.”

“Yes, milady.”

Mary rolled her eyes with a smile, knowing he delighted in teasing her. “Well, I’m sorry, but that’s what it will take if you wish to kiss me. Now hurry up unless you want me to add another task.”

Tom smiled again, moving as if he were to leave the bed before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. Mary let out a shriek as he darted away, clearly pleased with himself. She stared after him even after he left the room, wondering if she ought to make up an additional demand if he wanted to kiss her properly... before realizing that she didn’t want to wait much longer.

* * *

Their next date was arranged on a Sunday afternoon. It had taken some careful coordination but Mary was hoping Tom would be pleased with it.

Tom was upstairs showering when there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it!” shouted Sybbie, running to the front door. Mary let her, somewhat nervous. Her anxieties only intensified when she heard her shriek, “Thomas!”

“Hello, there,” she heard Thomas say as George began running to the kitchen and Sybbie let out another noise of surprise when she realized Jimmy was there as well.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said gratefully once Thomas stepped into the living room, so thankful that she wished she could give him a hug... but somehow that didn’t seem the right thing to do in the midst of a pandemic, despite the fact he and Jimmy had been avoiding the rest of the world just as Tom and Mary had. They had agreed, with both of them expecting babies, it might make sense to form a bubble with one another. Considering the extended Crawley family was still not on speaking terms with them and they didn’t want to risk Granny’s health, they weren’t sure who else to turn to for childcare. She would have considered asking Anna and John, only she knew they already had their hands full with Johnny.

“It’s no problem,” said Thomas. “We’ll need the practice, for when we have our little one.”

Mary beamed. “Are you excited?”

“Of course,” Thomas grinned. “We spent yesterday painting the nursery.”

Before Mary could ask much more, Tom appeared at the steps. “Hi Thomas! Nice to see you! Thank you for doing this, by the way.”

Thomas smirked. “It’s no problem. I’m sure you two can return the favor for us at some point, once the world returns to normal.”

Mary immediately felt dread at the idea of looking after three babies and George and Sybbie at once. She sincerely hoped he was joking. Before she could voice this, Tom cheerily said, “I’m sure we’ll owe you,” and wandering off to say hello to Jimmy.

“So what’s it like? The two of you dating?”

Mary allowed herself a small smile. “It’s nice... and not that different, really.”

Thomas seemed highly intrigued but asked no more questions. She supposed she must have answered any and all queries after she informed him of the news. Though it was still hard not having support or any real contact from her family (besides Granny, who had been smug upon learning they were now together), it was nice to know she had support from her friends. She recalled Anna’s excitement fondly, relieved to know there was someone in her life who wouldn’t look down on them for it.

After exchanging hellos and conveying her immense gratitude to Jimmy as well, Mary was relieved to finally be on their way. She had glanced at her phone several times, making sure they wouldn’t be late.

“I have to be honest, I’m a little worried,” said Tom as they walked to the garage.

“Why? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course. I’m not worried about the date,” he clarified. He glanced back at the front door. “Just— Do you think it’s safe? Us going out, Thomas and Jimmy in our house?”

“They’ve been as careful as us,” Mary reminded him. “I don’t think they’ve even gone to a grocery store. I think they have it delivered to their place. And I promise that we’ll keep safe.”

Tom nodded but Mary could tell he was still apprehensive. Truthfully, she had her own fears, but she was reminding herself that they were doing the best they could. “Please try not to worry, my darling. This is your day, remember?” She squeezed his hand before letting go, walking to her side of the car. It wasn’t until she reached the other side that she realized he was still standing there. There was a curious expression on his face. “What?” She asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Nothing,” Tom said, shaking his head. A small smile was creeping across his face. “You called me _darling_.” Before Mary could question it, he shyly admitted, “I like it.”

Relieved, Mary beamed. “I’ll remember that.” She opened her own door. “Now get in the car, darling, or else we’ll be late.”

Tom grinned, but when they were both in the car, he said, “You said we’ll be late... You didn’t get us reservations to a restaurant, did you? I don’t know how safe it is—“

“Don’t worry,” said Mary, starting up the vehicle. She supposed her lack of annoyance over his fussing was a clear sign they were still in the honeymoon phase. “Everything will be perfectly safe.”

She knew he was dying to know more as they drove along, though he was doing a marvelous job pretending otherwise. Mary was excited, enjoying the fact she finally had a chance to surprise him.

They finally pulled up into Charlie and Elsie’s driveway, where the old car sat in the driveway. It was his latest purchase, something he had splurged on and shown off on Facebook. Mary knew he was fond of her, but she was stunned when he had actually said they could borrow it for the day.

“What’s this?” Tom was all but jumping out of the car, almost forgetting to remove his seat belt.

“You’re the one who knows all about cars. You tell me,” said Mary, grinning. She pulled out her phone, quickly sending a quick text that simply said, _Here_ to Charlie.

“This is a beauty,” Tom marveled, clearly restraining himself from touching the car. “Where’d Charlie get it?”

“You can ask him yourself. He’ll be out in a moment or two to give us the keys,” said Mary, pleased that he already seemed to be enjoying himself. She slipped her face mask on and Tom did the same.

A couple minutes later, Charlie emerged from the house, along with Elsie, brandishing a set of keys. “Here you go, Tom,” he said, handing them over to him. “Take good care of it— and Mary.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Tom, gaze flickering over to Mary. “I will.”

They stood around for a while, chatting with Charlie and Elsie about just about everything. Charlie had taken up gardening, apparently, whereas Elsie had started knitting with all the time on her hands. “I can make something, for your little ones, if you’d like,” she offered, which surprised Mary. She had never disliked Elsie, but they weren’t exactly the closest. She had always suspected Sybil was her favorite of the Crawley girls... but then again, Elsie has always had a soft spot for Tom.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Elsie,” said Mary genuinely.

Thankfully, neither of them pried too much about the circumstances surrounding Tom and Mary, nor the pregnancy. Mary wondered if perhaps Papa and Mama had filled them in already or if they had simply decided not to ask about it. Nevertheless, Mary was pleased not answer to many invasive questions.

Soon, Elsie and Charlie decided to let them leave, saying their goodbye and Tom promising to return the car without a single scratch or dent. “Where are we going to now?” Tom asked as the climbed into the car.

“Anywhere you like,” said Mary, buckling the seatbelt in the passengers side. “But you’ll need to pull into a drive through at some point.”

Tom gave her a strange look but said, “Very well.” He started up the car and Mary ignored her own jolt as the engine rumbled to life.

Thankfully, as if sensing her apprehension, Tom drove more slowly than she knew he wanted. It was still enough for the wind to blow through their hair but not enough to make her nervous. Every so often, he stole glances at her, but she remained focused on him almost the whole time.

After a while, Tom drove into the town. “Which restaurant am I to go to, then?”

“Anywhere that serves burgers and milkshakes,” answered Mary, amused when Tom raised his eyebrows. “And I’m sorry, but you cannot order anything else.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mary was sipping on a chocolate milkshake on a secluded area on Downton’s estate underneath a shady tree, the sun warm but not excessively hot. Tom was wondering why she had ordered he park the car somewhere but eagerly eating his lunch now. Mary pulled out her phone. “I’m sorry the screen is so small, but as long as we sit close together, we should be able to see.”

“It sounds to me like you just want an excuse to sit close to me,” teased Tom as scooted closed towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Mary smiled, pressing play before leaning back.

_“Roman Holiday_ ,” Tom remarked when the title card appeared on the screen.

Mary shrugged, sipping her chocolate milkshake. “I thought it was period appropriate, with the car... and I thought it was something we might both enjoy.”

“Have you seen it before, then?”

“Once, but that was some time ago. I can’t even remember what it’s about now. I think I was in secondary school. I wanted to feel sophisticated.”

Tom laughed. “It’s hard to picture a time where you weren’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only mean it’s difficult to imagine you being an awkward teenager like the rest of us,” said Tom. She could feel him smirking. “I’ve heard some stories, but it’s hard picturing you that young and doing silly things.”

Mary might have smiled and joined in on the jokes of they weren’t treading dangerously close to Kemal Pamuk territory. She was afraid to ask what stories he had heard— if they were from Sybil, she was sure they wouldn’t be too damaging... but if it was Edith... well, then it would be nothing but a highlight of her at her absolute nastiest.

“I think it’s best to forget about those times,” she finally said. “Now shush and watch the movie.”

As lovely a time as it was, the mood was altered. Though she did her best to concentrate on Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, it was difficult when her mind insisted on reminding her of an unpleasant time in her life. The night itself had been bad enough but the months that followed up until graduation were torturous.

Since he had been engrossed with the movie, Tom didn’t notice the shift. It wasn’t until it concluded and Mary plugged her phone into the portable charger that he said, “That was a lovely idea,” and kissed her forehead.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said, attempting to remain as in bright spirits as she had been before.

“So,” Tom said with a smirk. “Is there anymore?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s all done, I’m afraid, unless you want to drive around a while longer... but we ought to return it to Charlie soon.”

“No time for some fun in the backseat?”

It was joke— obviously it was. Under normal circumstances, Mary might have been willing to joke as well, but at present she had little patience towards humor. “No,” she said sharply. “Charlie’s been very nice to lend us this car. I’m not going to insult him like that.” She reached for the seatbelt, bucking herself up and staring straight ahead.

Tom didn’t move. “I was only... it was only a joke. I’m sorry.” When Mary didn’t say anything back, he sighed and started up the car again.

When Mary realized Tom was driving straight for Charlie and Elsie’s, she texted Charlie to let him know.

“So,” the man said, greeting them in the driveway. “How did you like it?”

“It was great,” Tom said, before launching into an impassioned monologue about it. Mary tried to follow along, but found herself anxious to leave. It was a terrible attitude to have but—

“Are you alright, Mary?” Charlie asked, frowning.

She forced herself to smile. “Of course I am. I’m just afraid I’m starting to get tired.”

“Of course you are. I’m sorry. We won’t hold you up longer.” After wishing them farewell, Charlie was given his keys and Tom and Mary were walking back to her car.

“D’you want me to drive?” Tom asked quietly.

Mary nodded, sorting through her bag until she found her own keys. The sun was setting in the distance, though it was still rather dark.

The drive home was a silent one until Tom turned on the music. He flipped through nearly all the stations before turning it off again, sighing as he did so.

Thomas and Jimmy thankfully did not stay long enough to observe the strange tension between them, only assuring them that George and Sybbie had been very good for them. Mary greeted the children, mood improving slightly, then Tom promised to let them stay up to watch a movie. “Do you think that’s wise, letting them stay up so late?” Mary asked in a whisper as she followed him into the kitchen, where he scooped ice cream for them. It was already nearly nine o’clock.

“It’s summer and we’re in the middle of a pandemic. We can be lenient with them,” insisted Tom. “Besides, they’ll probably fall asleep halfway through anyway.”

He had a point... “What about brushing their teeth?”

“We’ll make them do when they wake up.”

“Not me. I’m going to bed.” The idea of staying up past eleven made her exhausted just thinking about it. “It’ll have to be you.”

Tom looked up from his task. “Okay, then.” He looked so confused...

Mary felt a little bad about it when she finally went upstairs, dressing herself in one of his tee shirts. Things hadn’t panned out the way she wanted... she wished there was some way she could shake herself out of this.

She was scrolling through Instagram thirty minutes when the bedroom door opened, revealing Tom. “The children finished their ice cream and have brushed their teeth,” he informed her before coming to sit on the bed.

Mary wasn’t certain of how to respond. She settled for an ambivalent, “That’s good.”

Tom sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about making that stupid joke earlier. I never would have said if I’d known it would upset you—“

Mary shook her head. “It’s not that.”

Tom was quiet. “Then what is it? Because I feel like you’re angry at me and I don’t know what I even did wrong, let alone how to make it better.”

“You can’t,” said Mary. Then, upon realizing he wouldn’t understand, she clarified, “Because it’s nothing you’ve done. It’s me. I just— I need to go to sleep. When I wake up in the morning, I’ll be back to my regular self.”

“I don’t understand.”

He wouldn’t. Not when she’d kept it from him. “When we were talking about secondary school... it stirred up a bad memory for me.” She didn’t even need to see his face to know he was wearing an expression of concern. “I’m alright. I promise I am. But I don’t— I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“That’s fine. That’s more than alright.” He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her. Mary’s shoulders tended for a moment before relaxing. “Is this... Does it have to do with that thing all those months ago? That Matthew knew?”

Mary had nearly forgotten about that conversation. It was hard to believe that had happened just this year... it felt like eons ago and they had been in a completely different stage of life then. “It does.”

Tom nodded. “You don’t have to ever tell me, Mary. I mean it. Just because things are different now between us, you’re entitled to your secrets.”

“But I do.” It was a harsh reality but one she realized was necessary. Edith had her own version of the story, which had been concluded by whispered rumors. She didn’t know the whole truth, nor did Mary believe she deserved it, but she was terrified that one day she would reference it in front of Tom and give him the wrong impression. “You don’t understand. I need to tell you. I don’t want you hearing about it from anyone else.”

“Like who?”

“Edith. She’s— she’s already made comments about it in front of you and given how wonderfully she’s taken to learning about us, I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before she throws it in your face.”

Tom’s confusion melted away, replaced by something softer. “Mary,” he said quietly, crossing the room that he could stand in front of her. “I meant what I said. You don’t have to tell me about it now— or ever, if you don’t want to. I trust you. And— and nothing Edith says will ever change how I feel about you.”

Mary, who until just now had felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, allowed herself to ease. “Thank you,” she muttered before reaching out to embrace him. His arms wrapped around her instantly. “I will tell you. Someday. But not now.”

Tom simply responded by pressing a kiss to her temple and holding her a little tighter. “I’ll leave you to rest, then.”

“No,” she said immediately. “Stay. Please.”

And so he did.

* * *

“What do you think of Andrew?”

Mary looked up from her phone, frowning. They were laying in bed, tired after a long day of dealing with a crew coming to work on the house. The good news was that it looked like things would be finished soon. “Andrew who?”

Tom let out a laugh, the sound a welcome one to her ears. “I meant for the baby. What do you think about naming him Andrew?”

Mary hesitated. Truthfully it wasn’t her favorite... but she didn’t know how to tactfully tell him that. Instead she asked, “Why Andrew?”

Tom suddenly grew shy. Mary worried she was going to step on some toes. “It’s a little silly but... well, I remember Matthew teasing you about naming George Andromeda if he were a girl. And I was just thinking it sounded close enough for a masculine name...” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but Mary could tell he had put a great deal of thought into it. “I thought it might be a nice way to remember him without naming the baby after him.”

Mary was quiet, speechless. She was touched. It made sense: Matthew had been his close friend. Given that he had named Sybbie after Sybil, it made sense he would want to honor Matthew in some way.

“We don’t have to. If you don’t want to. If you’d rather they have names completely separate. I know it’s a little strange,” Tom said, as if he could read her thoughts. Sometimes Mary wondered if he could... or maybe it was testament to how close they were.

Mary shook her head. “No. I like that.” She squeezed his hand. “But I’m not exactly a fan of Andrew as a name.” She paused, debating with herself if she should share it or not before saying, “It was an inside joke between Matthew and I. We had class at uni together about Greek mythology. We didn’t really like one another at all back then.” It was easy to slip back into those memories of simpler times, recalling the youthful versions of themselves. “Then we were paired up for an assignment and I loudly compared myself to Andromeda being sacrificed to the sea monster to all my friends, well within earshot of him... and he never let me forget it. So I’m afraid that it would defeat the point of honoring Matthew when he was talking about me.”

Tom chuckled. “Fair enough. No Andrew, then.”

Nevertheless, Tom’s idea had her thinking. She recalled a memory of her and Matthew strolling about campus, once they had become friends. He mentioned a mutual acquaintance of theirs, some girl whose gaze always lingered on him for too long. _“You’d better watch out. I think she has a crush on you,”_ Mary informed him, ignoring her own sting of jealousy that he was acknowledging this girl’s existence. He has expressed interest in Mary in the past, inviting her along to dinner... but then the stupid thing at the party happened when Edith came to visit.

_“That’s something no one could accuse you of,”_ Matthew had replied, but when he glanced over to her, his eyes were hopeful.

_“Oh, I don’t know.”_ He had slowed down, turning to her completely, eyes wide and a smile threatening to form. _“I’ve been thinking and I don’t think you’re a sea monster after all. I think you’re more like Perseus.”_

“Although... There’s always Perseus... or, rather, Percy.” She mulled the name over in her mind. _Percy Branson..._ “What do you think?”

Tom nodded. “Percy. I like it.” He smiled. “I think our son has a name.”

There was a fluttering feeling in her stomach. _Our son._ The thought filled her with immense joy. “Have you decided on a middle name for him yet?” asked Mary.

“I was thinking Eoin. It’s my middle name,” he explained, as if she didn’t know already from being his best friend for years and from hearing his mother exclaim his full name as she demanded to know why he hadn’t told her about the babies sooner. Thankfully she hadn’t been upset for long, too excited about her future grandchildren for that. “And it was my Dad’s name.”

“Well, that settles it. We’ve named our son.” Mary suddenly felt a kick. “I think he approves,” she said, though knowing it could either of them. She reached out for Tom’s hand, placing it over her stomach. It took a moment before she felt it again and this time Tom’s smile grew wider the same time hers did.

“I felt it,” he clarified needlessly, “I felt him. I felt our baby.”

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

“I love them so much already,” Tom said, sounding a little teary as there was another kick.

Mary smiled. “Now we just need to come up with something for our daughter.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Mary hesitated. “I’ve always liked the name Caroline, but I don’t know. I’m not sure how well it will suit her but we have to name her something.”

“There’s no need for us to rush it,” said Tom, hand still resting on her stomach, gazing down at it adoringly, as if he could see them both. “Maybe we’ll know it once we meet her.”

Mary wasn’t sure. She didn’t like the idea of not having a name picked out for her daughter. It didn’t seem quite right to her. “I’m sure we’ll figure out the right one before it’s time.” She was determined to.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely reviews last chapter! I hope everybody's holidays went well and that 2021 is treating you better than 2020 thus far!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty Three**

"I can help," insisted Mary as Tom took the pails of paint from her hands.

"Those are heavy."

"Not very. I'm perfectly capable of carrying them." She crossed her arms over her chest. As much as she loved Tom, he still could exasperate her with his attempts at gallantry.

They were standing in the middle of George's new room. The building process had ended just a few days ago; all that needed to be done was adding furniture and painting the walls. George had asked if he could help do it, to which Mary and Tom readily agreed.

Put out and irritable, Mary glowered at Tom's back as he bent over, setting the paint cans down. "Let me guess: you aren't going to let me climb on the stepladder to paint the walls, either."

He turned around slowly and she could see the answer written all over his face. "I don't want you getting hurt," Tom replies tersely.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Tom! I'll be fine! It's not dangerous and the doctor says we're all perfectly healthy!"

"Well, that's what they told Sybil, too."

Mary sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as possible as conflicting sadness and anger swirled around inside her. "I understand why you are worried. Truly, I do. But this isn't the same thing." When he said nothing, simply carrying on with preparing things for the painting process, she only grew more frustrated. "Are you going to say anything."

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to argue with you."

"No, you don't want to argue. You just want to tell me what I can and cannot do."

Those were the words that finally made his head snap up and for him to look at her. "That's not what I'm doing!"

"Isn't it?" demanded Mary. "You've forbidden me from using the stepladder. Do I need your permission to do the laundry or sit on the sofa?"

"Oh, don't be like that, Mary! That isn't it at all! I just want to to be safe!"

"And you don't think I know how to keep myself safe?" demanded Mary. "Do you really think I'd let any harm come to the babies or myself?"

"Don't put words in my mouth! That isn't what I was saying!"

It was just now that Mary realized how close they were standing. A powerful surge of desire shot through her, much to her surprise. This didn't seem like the time... but God, she wanted him.

With little warning even from herself, Mary leaned forward and kissed him, needing to quell and stoke her desire at the same time. She was fairly certain she had taken him by surprise for it took Tom a moment before he finally responded with equal passion. Her hands began tangling in his hair as his slid down her body. Mary hadn't even realized they were moving back up until she felt her spine come into contact with the door.

Instinct began taking over instead of logic. Mary began trying to wrap a leg around Tom's waist when he broke their kiss. "No," he gasped out, trying to gain his breath. His hand moved to her calf, sliding her leg down. "We can't, love, not here in George's room..."

"I need you," she choked out, half begging him. Under normal circumstances, she never would have admitted a thing but Mary felt like she had been driven mad in the span of only a few minutes. She knew it was mainly her hormones, but there was always a part of her that wanted Tom.

Tom nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again before pulling away and saying, "We'll go upstairs. To our room. I'll send the kids outside to play."

"Outside?"

"I think it might be best," said Tom, voice lower. "Who knows how much noise we'll make?"

It was excruciating to part from him after that tantalizing promise but Mary reminded herself it wouldn't be long as she heard him knocking on Sybbie's bedroom door and saying something about going outdoors to " _enjoy_ _the lovely sunshine"._

* * *

Mary felt content, sprawled across her bed, heartbeat having slowed some time ago. Her eyes were closed, even as Tom pressed kisses against her collarbone and his fingers twitched against the side of her breast. There was no urgency, none of that furious intensity they'd had so short a time ago. She liked being able to lay here and bask in this with him.

"You know we still haven't finished our argument yet," she said without opening her eyes.

Tom's kisses stopped. Mary wished he hadn't but she couldn't really blame him. She felt his warm breath as he sighed. "I know."

Mary cracked her eyes open as Tom moved himself over to lay on her pillows. They were on the opposite sides of the bed that they usually slept on. It felt strange but Mary was hardly going to insist they switch... and she didn't have much motivation to do so in the first place. "I understand that you're worried about me and I'm not upset with you for it. But I want to be help and useful for as long as I can be."

"I know that. And I'm sorry." Tom reached out, moving a stray piece of hair out of the way. "I just find myself thinking about everything that could go wrong. I mean, at first it was easier... but now..." He glanced down at her stomach, which was now quite noticeable. She was officially no longer able to fit into any of her old clothes.

"Are you calling me fat?" Mary arched an eyebrow, teasing him.

Tom laughed. "No. I'm only saying it's not possible for me to forget anymore." He reached out to touch it. It was his favorite thing to do, not that he could feel them.

Mary nodded, shifting closer to him. "I wouldn't do anything to put them into harm's way. I love them, too."

"I know." Tom kissed her forehead. "You're a good mother."

Mary swallowed. "I really want to help," she said, needing to impress the importance of this on him. "It's— Well, I just know I'm going to miss George terribly once he goes into his new room." She blinked. "He's always been down the hall from me and I know it's silly, but he's going to feel so far away..."

"It isn't silly. It's a big step." Tom kissed her temple now. "I didn't want to make you feel like you couldn't be involved."

Mary nodded. "I just know I can't really help with moving many things in there and I want to do something nice for him." She let her head rest on his chest.

"Of course you do." She felt his lips at the top of her head now. It was as if he couldn't stop. She couldn't resist smiling. "I didn't want you to feel like you couldn't. I was just— Well, I'm a little worried about the step ladder—"

Mary rolled her eyes. "I never had any intentions of getting on it, you know. I was just so riled up." She moved her head to kiss his chest. "In more ways than one."

She heard his breath hitch. Mary smiled and did it again. "You know," he said, hand moving down her back, "if this is what happens when we fight, I think we should have them more often."

"Good thing I enjoy a good argument," quipped Mary. Her hand slid to his hip. "Besides... Why do you think I told you that you'd never have to sleep on that damnable couch again?"

Tom let out a loud laugh before pulling her up to kiss her. Mary reciprocated, hand on his cheek. She pulled away to gaze into his eyes, admiring that lovely shade of blue. "In all seriousness, I do hate it when we fight. I don't like it when you and I aren't on the same page."

"I hate it, too. It doesn't feel right." They exchanged adoring smiles before Tom said, "I'm glad we're not fighting anymore. We can start making up."

Mary opened her mouth to laugh, only for a moan slipped out instead as Tom's fingers stroked her.

* * *

Mary supposed it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that Isobel was among the first of the family to come around. She called Mary on George's birthday asking to speak to him and inquiring after her pregnancy. "Cora said something about you having problems with morning sickness. I wondered if I could be any help."

Mary was somewhat pleased this interaction was taking place over the phone, for her flabbergasted expression likely would have been something to behold. It was strange, the thought of others talking about and discussing her life when they hadn't spoken to her properly in weeks. "I did, but we're past that stage now. Already into the second trimester."

"How exciting!" Isobel sounded genuinely pleased. "If— if you need any help at all or have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me."

"That's very kind of you."

"I mean it, Mary. I won't deny that I was shocked but truthfully when I look back on that conversation, all I can think is how disappointed Matthew would be in me for not being more understanding." Mary swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I am afraid I was rather short with you and it wasn't what you deserved, not at such a happy time. I understand if you don't want to forgive me just yet—"

"But I do." Her eyes were slowly filling with tears. It was hard, not having family to talk to about all this and update them on the developments in their life. There was Granny and Bertie, of course, who were marvelous, but she wanted to share this joy with everyone. "I don't blame you for being shocked at all. I'm sure it was the last thing you were expecting to learn about."

"You're being far kinder than I think I've earned, but I'll accept it gladly." Isobel sounded relieved. "Please extend my congratulations to Tom."

"I will."

"I admire you both," said Isobel, causing Mary's lips to curve upward. "I know it must be much different, doing this with a friend instead of a partner. Is it working out alright?"

Mary hesitated before saying, "Things have changed on that front recently."

"Have they?"

Mary braced herself for a negative reaction. Considering how well Isobel had taken the news initially, she wasn't exactly readying herself for joyous jubilation. "We're together now."

"Oh! How wonderful!" Mary's ears were trying to detect any insincerity but Isobel genuinely sounded thrilled. "I'm so pleased!"

"Granny didn't tell you?"

"Your grandmother's been guarding your secrets fiercely. Your parents have asked her about all of you and she keeps telling them to direct their questions to you."

Mary managed a laugh. Classic Granny... She felt a surge of gratitude towards her grandmother.

"I know it might be hard for you to believe it but once I started getting over the shock of it all, I couldn't help but think it was a shame you two weren't together. It— Well, I don't think any of us in the family ever considered you two together, what with Matthew and Sybil, but— well, it makes so much sense, really. You're very well suited and you've always got on so well."

Mary wasn't so sure about _always_. She remembered those early days of when he was dating Sybil and how she couldn't possibly understand what her sister saw in him. She supposed the joke was on her. "We certainly think so," said Mary, a little dazed but gladdened.

Mary passed the phone onto George and told Tom about her conversation as the children darted into George's new room to describe it to Isobel. "I'm a little surprised," he said, blinking. "You know, out of the whole family, her reaction was the one I understood the most."

Mary frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Tom looked as if he wished he hadn't spoke. Nevertheless, he quietly said, "I... I know you miss them. And I miss them too, really. I wish things weren't like this. But... I'm angry with them, too."

Mary's eyes widened. It wasn't like Tom to harbor such resentment towards the family— at least not anymore. He was their peace keeper in many ways, careful not to offend. He didn't take sides in arguments, not even when Mary railed her case against Edith. "You never said."

"Because I know it makes you sad to dwell on all that," said Tom, reaching for her hand. "Which upsets me even more, and I didn't want to burden you."

"Your feelings aren't a burden."

"Maybe not," agreed Tom. "But given all the stress you've already had with them and with me, not to mention the fact we're in a pandemic..." he trailed off. "It's a lot for you to deal with and I didn't want you worrying about one more thing when I'm sure I'll get over it."

"It has been a lot," admitted Mary. There was an immense strain, balancing all these things... but she hated that Tom felt guilty. "But I would much rather you talk to me than bottle things in. Things are different now between us... and I don't wanting us taking steps back instead of moving forward."

Tom nodded. "I know that. I'll try to be better. I just— I didn't want to be negative and angry all the time."

Mary shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'm angry, too. I think I miss them more, but sometimes when I think of the way they spoke to you, I feel absolutely furious." Despite how harsh her words felt to say, it relieved her to finally say them. "So I empathize."

Tom sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's just— We didn't do anything wrong and yet they acted like we did. I understand their surprise, but—" He stopped abruptly, as if he couldn't continue on that train of thought. "And it reminds me of how it was with Sybil, at the beginning. Your father was so against us having a baby... and now it seems like there's more people against us now. And I feel like an outsider again."

It hurt Mary's heart to hear him talk like that. She wanted to jump in and try to soothe his thoughts but he wasn't done yet.

"But I understood it with Isobel more. She's— She was Matthew's mother. And you were his wife and I was his friend... And I just s understood why she was shocked. But for everyone else, it just..."

Mary didn't make any excuses for their shock. Instead, she reached out and took his hand. "You're far from an outsider. I don't blame you for feeling that way, but you'll always be a member of our family. And not just because of the children, but because you're my family." A part of her worried about saying that, knowing it was still early days with them. She had no idea what the future held: suppose later on they realized they were incompatible in some way? But even with these worries, Mary was confident that Tom would always be a part of her life, regardless of what that role was, and even if this relationship didn't work out.

Thankfully, her words did the trick. Tom smiled, the tension visibly easing from him. He pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, which earned an " _Ew_!" from Sybbie, who had only just entered the room. Mary knew she didn't mean it, though. The children had taken well to the fact their parents were together and finally a " _normal_ " couple— it was their word, for Mary was perfectly willing to admit nothing with her and Tom was normal.

However, Isobel wasn't the only member of the family seeking contacting them that day. Mama texted Mary to ask if she could arrange a Zoom call for them and the children and Edith texted Tom with well wishes for George's birthday and to inform them his gift would be arriving that day or the next. Mary simply sent Mama an invitation through Zoom and set the laptop up for the children with no word and Tom sent Edith a terse response on George's behalf. They were in agreement; until apologies were made, there was no truce. The children were blameless so they wouldn't keep them from their family, but Tom and Mary wouldn't engage with them for anything else.

During the Zoom call, Mary sat on a chair in the kitchen, watching Tom make George's birthday cake and speaking lowly here and there about this and that. There was something calming about it, infinitely more calming than concentrating on whatever her parents were saying in the other room.

Maybe it was why Mary abruptly rose from the chair after Tom popped the cake in the over. The mitts were warm as she took his hands in hers and kissed him slowly. She drew away enough to meet his eye, saying as quietly as possible, "I love you." His mouth opened. She worried he might feel guilty about not being able to say it back, so she interrupted by saying, "You don't have to say anything. I just needed to tell you that right now."

Mary barely had a chance to see the smile on his face before he leaned in again.

* * *

The day was not without more tension. After eating his cake, George finally had a chance to open up his presents. Tom and Mary had purchased him some things, of course, but Sybbie had a gift of her own for him. She usually liked to make her own presents, like a special drawing, but Mary knew it was considerably more elaborate than usual because she had asked Mary to borrow some wrapping paper.

However, nothing prepared Mary for what George would unwrap.

 _The Sonnets of William Shakespeare_ dropped to the floor the same time Mary's stomach did. George stared at it open mouthed before crawling over to Sybbie. "Thank you, thank you!" He hugged her, so tightly that Sybbie began insisting she couldn't breathe.

Mary was in shock, unable to fathom the fact her niece had wrapped up one of Sybil's beloved poetry books and bequeathed it to George. "Sybbie, why did you give him that?" She said once she finally regained her voice.

"Because it's his favorite," Sybbie stated, as if it were perfectly obvious.

"Look, Mummy!" George ran up to her, holding the book in his hands and flipping through the thin pages until he came across the one he was looking for. "See? Aunt Sybil had pretty handwriting." He jabbed at the margins of the page, where Sybil's faint scrawl was etched in pencil detailing the contents of Sonnet 53.

"Yes," said Mary, uncomfortable. She didn't dare look over at Tom. "She did."

"And look!" George flipped to the back of the book, to excitedly show that Sybil had drawn a picture of a frog on one of the blank pages at the end.

"You didn't have to give him that," Mary said lowly to Sybbie as George ran to fetch another present. "That belonged to your mother."

"I know. But I have a lot of her books. And Daddy said they're all mine. It's George's favorite and wanted to give it to him."

Mary was torn between adoring Sybbie for her kindness, marveling at how she truly embodied the best of her mother, while also being horrified that she was giving one of Sybil's books away. She turned to Tom now, helpless in knowing what to do and concerned about his reaction, but Tom simply sat there with a faraway look in his eyes as George proceeded to tear open his other present.

It was to be George's first night in his new room, so Mary and Tom went to tuck him in and say goodnight. When Mary glanced at his bookshelf, she saw Sybil's book sitting there already, nestled between the _Harry Potter_ series and his collection of Greek mythology.

"Does it bother you?" Mary asked later, wetting her toothbrush as Tom dressed for bed. She stepped backward to look at him through the door. "That Sybbie gave George the book?"

Tom stilled. "No," he decided a couple seconds later, letting his button down fall to the floor before replacing it with some old tee shirt with lettering that had begun cracking and wearing off. "He seemed thrilled. Those books should be enjoyed by someone who'll appreciate them. And even though he never knew her, she was his aunt. He should have something of hers."

Mary couldn't tell how sincere he was being. It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as well as her. "Darling, if it really does bother you, I'll make him give it back," Mary promised.

Tom shook his head, his lips quirking you when she called him _darling._ "I mean it. It should be with someone who'll appreciate it," he said, crawling into their bed, "and I don't know how much Sybbie enjoys Shakespeare."

"I don't know how much George appreciates it," remarked Mary, remembering his interest had been more in Sybil's notes and doodling than the Bard's words. Perhaps he would when he was older.

"He might," Tom said as Mary finally began brushing her teeth. "But Sybbie— Well, I knew how much Sybil liked his plays. I never cared for them much myself, but— I took Sybbie to see _Love's Labors Lost_ and she didn't care for it at all."

Mary laughed before spitting out the toothpaste. "You should have taken her to see _Twelfth Night_. That was Sybil's favorite," said Mary when she entered the bedroom, climbing in next to Tom.

"Nobody was doing it, then," Tom defended himself, but smiled nonetheless. "I don't know how big a difference it would have made. As soon as it started she was asking me why they were all ' _talking funny_ '."

Mary laughed, thinking of a flustered Tone dealing with a four year old Sybbie at the theater, trying to quiet her down as she asked all her questions. She laid her head on his chest, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. He really was wonderful...

Tom turned the lamp out before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips at her forehead before he settled next to her. Her eyes were already closed, his embrace and the soft mattress beneath her far too comfortable for her to keep them open after the long day like this one.

"Maybe we can go together someday," mumbled Mary.

"What?"

"To see Shakespeare," she elaborated, albeit quite sleepily.

"Mm... maybe you should take them. You'd have more fun than I would."

"But what if I wanted you there?"

"Then I'd be there."

Mary smiled before inching even closer to her. It was just then that it occurred to her that the usual lingering ghost of Matthew had hardly haunted her at all that day. There had been moments, of course, like when she woke up and saw the date or when George blew out his candles that she was reminded that her husband had been taken all too soon, but not the way it normally did. She knew she had Tom to thank for that.

Mary wondered what Matthew would think, of her and Tom. She'd never entertained this thought with any of her previous boyfriends, not even Henry, but somehow it seemed important to consider with Tom. She thought of what Isobel had said, about him wanting her to be happy. Oddly enough, Mary felt he might approve. Tom had been his best friend; he probably would have said something about how she could have found no better man... or at least, that's what she liked to think, anyway.

And she had. She had said it, of course, but Mary wasn't certain if Tom even knew how much she loved him. She wasn't good at putting these big emotions into words. She hoped he understood, though, on some level, how much he meant to her.

Mary was almost asleep when she heard the soft knock against the door. She jumped, turning towards Tom, who was also sitting upright. He too seemed bewildered by the noise but called out, "Come in," nonetheless.

The door creaked open. George was standing in the doorway, stuffed dinosaur i his arms. "What's the matter?" Mary asked, a little groggy and disoriented.

"Nothing," said George, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I just... I'm scared to be in my room."

"But why? You were so excited earlier."

George shrugged. "It's dark and scary." There was a pause. "Can I stay in here with you tonight?"

Mary hesitated, glancing at Tom. George had only ever slept in her room a few times, and only during the period of time shortly after Tom and Sybbie had moved to America.

But Tom wasted no time reply. "Course you can." She heard George's fest pad across the floor before he climbed onto Mary's side of the bed. Thanks to the size, she didn't have to squeeze to make room for him. He used her pillow and curled up, facing her with his dinosaur tucked under his arm. Mary gave him a warm smile and a kiss on the forehead, closing her eyes as Tom muttered out a "Goodnight" intended. She was pleased when Tom's hand moved back to her stomach, just as it had been a few minutes prior.

However, sleep didn't come easily. Mary rolled onto her back when George's breathing evened out, a sigh escaping her. "Still awake?" mumbled Tom.

"Yeah."

He shifted beside her, adjusting himself. His mouth was somewhere by her neck, her hair separating his mouth from her skin. "I'll get him a nightlight tomorrow. It helped Sybbie. When we were in America."

"Was it terribly hard on her?"

Tom nodded. "I think it took a couple weeks before she would stay in her room. She missed her home."

 _Home._ Maybe it was just her hormones again, but Mary wanted to burst into tears. Even then, she had hated losing them both. The house had felt so empty without them. Mary wished she could be certain of the future and what it held, and where her and Tom were going... but Mary knew there were no answers.

So all she could say was, "I'm so happy that you're here." Not just in Downton, not just in the house, but in her bed and in her life. She was too tired to articulate it properly, and even if she hadn't, she suspected her problem of putting big feelings into words would have made her fumble it.

"I am, too." His lips were at her temple. "So happy."

* * *

Two weeks later, Papa tried to ring her. She missed the first call, switching a load of laundry from the washed to the dryer, but saw the second one after she went to join Tom on the sofa, pleased to have some time alone with him. George and Sybbie were uninterested in the movie they were watching and were instead playing in George's room.

Mary frowned at her phone, wondering what it was about. Oh, well. She could call him back later, when she was more equipped to deal with him. Right now, she wanted to have a nice, carefree evening with her boyfriend. She sat her phone down and tried to pay attention to the film Tom had just started.

However, her phone screen lit up only a minute or so later with a text.

_PAPA: Mary Call me please ASAP as possible. Its urgent_

"I need to call Papa," Mary said, not even looking up from her phone. "Something's happened."

Tom paused the movie as Mary's trembling fingers tried to call back. She pressed the phone to her ear, envisioning some horrible scenario. Oh, God, what was it?

She waited in suspense, Tom's hand resting on her knee. Her anxiety mouthed until she heard Papa's voice on the other end. "Mary?"

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Her hand clenched her phone.

Papa let out a sigh. "It's your mother. She's sick. It... it might be..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to say it. "She went to lunch with Sarah O'Brien week ago. They were both feeling fine but turns out Sarah's nephew has the coronavirus and exposed her... and now your mother has the most horrendous cough."

Mary took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself as best as she could presently. Half of her wanted to rage, demanding to know how her mother could be so thoughtless as to risk her own safety and Papa's while the other half of her was too terrified and concerned to worry about all that. "Has she been tested yet?" She was pleased at how level her voice was.

"Yes. I took her this afternoon. We won't know for a few more days or so."

Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears. "Thank you for letting me know."

"She's your mother. You deserve to know what's going on." He was quiet. "She wanted me to tell you. She's taking a nap right now. She's so tired..."

Mary reached up with one hand to wipe away the tears. "I'm sure she is."

"And how are you? Well, I hope?"

There it was, Papa extending the olive branch. It wasn't an apology but Mary wasn't about to demand one at present. That could be done later. "I am. Everything is as it should be."

"And Tom?"

"He's doing well, too." Mary reached for the hand on her knee, squeezing it. "If you need anything from us, please let us know. We can drop groceries off at the door or something for you."

"Thank you. I'm not sure we deserve your kindness after some of the things we said."

"Don't worry. We can quarrel later," said Mary, earning a weak laugh from her father. "Right now, all that matters is making sure you and Mama are alright. We'll help however we can."

"Thank you, my girl." Papa sounded close to tears. "I'll let you know if we need it. And we'll keep you informed."

Mary smiled, even though it was forced and for the benefit of someone who couldn't even see her. They exchanged farewells before she hung up and let her mask fall.

"What is it, then? Cora?" Tom asked. Mary turned to him and saw an expression of fear written across his features.

Mary nodded. "She may have the virus." Saying it aloud felt wrong but what else could she say? Even now, making it seem like a mere possibility sounded optimistic.

"Oh God." She didn't dare look at him. "Mary, I'm so sorry."

Mary didn't know what to say. It felt like her tongue was made of lead. She wished she had some sort of reply: either thanking him for his consideration or snapping for phrasing it as if Mama had one foot in the grave. But no words came to her, and she sat there and let Tom wrap his arm around her.

She had no idea what to do or what to say. There was that nebulous period of time after Papa's episode with his ulcer where his fate seemed uncertain but Mary knew this matter wouldn't come with an answer in an hour or two. She simply had to wait, which wasn't something she was good at.

There was very little talk after that, with her and Tom coming to an agreement not to burden the children with this until things were confirmed. She dismissed herself for bed, with Tom promising to follow her up in a while. The brush of his lips against the crown of her head detracted from the pervasive numbness but soon it came back with a vengeance once she was under the sheets all by herself.

It seemed silly, Mary mused as she faced Tom's side of the bed, but she already missed him. He was only downstairs but staring at the place he occupied made it feel as if he were a million miles away. She wanted him with her right now.

Thankfully Tom was true to his word. He was upstairs in short order. She sat upright in the bed as he began changing out of his clothes. "Hey," he said, voice breaking the still silence of the room. "How are you feeling?"

She opened her mouth to reassure him that she was alright, but no noise came out. It wasn't a lie; now that he was here, she felt much better than she had a few moments ago. She tried again, someone embarrassed when she realized that she was close to tears.

Tom abandoned his task of removing his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed. Hand seeking out hers, he squeezed tight. "You don't have to put on an act for me. You can let go. You don't have to carry it all alone." His opposite hand reached out, tucking back a strand of her dark hair. "I'm right here."

It was hard to allow herself to fall apart but once Mary did, Tom was there. Surrounded by his arms, face buried in his chest, tears and snot leaking down her face, Mary felt safe. His soft grounded her to reality, even when it felt like she was about to break down into nothingness. "I've got you." One hand rubbing between her shoulder blades. "It's okay. I've got you."

It wasn't okay. He had no way of being sure of that. None of them did. She knew he knew it, as he knew how cruel and fleeting life could be. Hearing him say it still came as a relief. It was promise he would be there by her side, not wavering for a second.

It wasn't until her sobs died in the back of her throat and her face was buried in the crook of his arm that she realized a startling truth. _He loves me._ She knew it without him needing to say a single word. It was palpable, something she could feel as solidly as the hand curved around her hip.

It was real.

* * *

Edith called Mary the following day to inform her about Mama, surprised when Mary was informed of the facts. "I wasn't sure if anyone had told you. It didn't seem right, leaving your in the dark... and I knew Mama and Papa weren't really speaking to you, so I thought somebody ought to."

"I appreciate that," said Mary honestly. "Really, I do." Mama herself had called Mary early in the morning, in a hoarse, raspy voice, to ask forgiveness from her eldest daughter. She expressed a desire to meet her newest grandchildren and be in their lives. Learning about Mary's relationship with Tom had (oddly enough, considering their earlier blustering about them _not_ being a couple) been met with some disapproval, but Mama had simply said _I am happy if you are happy._

There was a slight pause. "I want to apologize. For how I acted last time. I was rude."

"You were," agreed Mary, "but I forgive you."

"I owe Tom an apology as well. I know I upset him."

Mary said nothing at first. It didn't seem right, to confirm that to Edith, and she certainly wasn't about to accept an apology on Tom's behalf. Finally, after an awkward gap, Mary said, "He would appreciate it."

There was another long pause. Mary was ready to end the call when Edith let out a sigh. "It's just— I cant stop thinking that this isn't what Sybil would have wanted." Mary saw red. How was she to know what Sybil would want for Mary or Tom? At any rate, she wasn't going to let their babies be spoken of so dismissively. Her anger was only abated when Edith continued, "Us fighting like this, after all this time."

Mary let out a breath of relief and calmed herself before replying. "No. She wouldn't." Sybil was so kind and caring, always able to see the best in her and Edith. Sometimes it felt like she was seeing goodness that wasn't really there, considering how nasty they often were, especially to one another.

"Why do you think we're like this?" asked Edith, sounding so despaired.

Mary swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe we just have conflicting personalities. We probably wouldn't associate with one another if we weren't related."

"I don't want us to be like this anymore," Edith admitted. "Do you think that we could start being nicer to each other? I don't think we'll ever be the best of friends but I don't want us to fight like this."

"I don't want it to be like this, either," agreed Mary. It was time to bury the hatchet. "So let's try to be nicer and love each other like sisters should. One day it will only be the two of us who remembered her."

"And Tom," added Edith.

Mary smiled. "And Tom."

* * *

Relief came two days later when Mama called Mary with the results. "It's only a bad cold that's turned into bronchitis," Mary said, bursting into the office to tell Tom the good news without even knocking. "Which isn't great, but it's much better than the alternative."

"It most certainly is," said Tom, already smiling and lowering her onto his lap. It was a bit more of an awkward fit than before, now that Mary's pregnancy had advanced, but it worked well enough. She certainly enjoyed the nearer proximity to him, desire coiling in her stomach already. With the happy news, perhaps they could celebrate...

But an offhanded glance at the desk made Mary realize Tom's laptop screen was on, a page full of paragraphs written in a font so small she could barely read. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought you'd want to know," Mary said, suddenly very aware that she had intruded during her boyfriend's work day.

Tom shook his head. "No. I'm glad you told me. It's been weighing on my mind. I'll probably work better now that I don't have to worry anymore."

"I only hope her and Papa will start taking things more seriously," said Mary, holding him tighter. "I don't think they were before but I think they might now, after a brush like this."

Tom nodded. "We can only hope so."

Mary let her eyes fall shut. "Thank you," she mumbled into his hair, which she had trimmed herself a week ago when it became too shaggy, "for letting me lean on you."

"I'll always be there for you." She was very aware of his hand, which had settled on her thigh. Her breath hitched. "Whenever you need me."

Her eyes closed. "What if I needed you right now?"

"Right now?"

Mary nodded emphatically. "My hormones—"

"Say no more." Tom's lips were already on her neck as he closed his laptop, shoving it aside.

"I'm sorry," Mary said as she positioned herself on the desk, a little embarrassed at how little it took to get her like this. "I know I've been awfully needy lately—"

"Does it look like I'm complaining?" Tom interrupted, hand already shaking underneath her shirt and undoing her bra. Mary shook her head as he discarded it somewhere behind her. She met his eyes as he said, with a surprising amount of solemnity, "Believe me, I want this just as much— and as often— as you."

And if there were still any doubt in her mind, Tom made sure to obliterate them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments last chapter! Real life has unfortunately become stressful at the moment. I'm not sure when it will calm down or when Chapter 25 will be ready, but I will still be working on it! Until then, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> A quick warning for some: the Pamuk storyline has been modernized here and I know it might be triggering to some people. I don't go into any detail with it but I just wanted everyone to be aware.

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty Four**

The revelation Mary had from the night she learned Mama was ill was an ever present thought that lived in her mind. _He loves me_ , she would gloat as he indulged her bizarre cravings, like adding pickle juice to her ice cream, even though he wrinkled his nose and grimaced as he did it. _He loves me_ , she would think as he smiled with delight as he felt the twins kicking inside her stomach, tears and a reverent look in his eyes as he looked up at her. _He loves me,_ she would remind herself when he would unthinkingly be brusque with her, and reminded of it later when he would apologize profusely. _He loves me,_ would be the last thought she had with his lips against her ear as he breathed her name before she gasped his.

He didn't say it, but he didn't have to. She knew. As a person who didn't always spell things out herself, she knew what to look for. She didn't doubt him when he made promises about always being there for her; she knew he was speaking the truth.

It wasn't a lack of trust, either. Tom knew things about her no else did. She trusted him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of him, to break down and cry, to see her at her very worst. She trusted Tom with the things she didn't tell anyone else.

But still, when she came to realization that it was time to tell him about Kemal, she was frightened. Not of judgement— Tom wasn't that sort of person— but of pity. That's what she was worried about.

So she waited until they were in bed together, the lights out. Mary welcomed each of Tom's kisses, as they ebbed away at some of her apprehension, but eventually drew away. "What is it?" Tom asked almost immediately. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head before kissing his cheek. "You've done nothing wrong, darling," she said, in an effort to reassure him. "It's just that... I'm ready to tell you." She didn't even need to elaborate. He already seemed to know.

Tom rolled off her. "Okay."

Mary tried to steady her breath and ready herself but she wasn't sure she had the nerve. Instead of beginning, she said, "You must promise me first you won't interrupt."

"I promise." His hands found herself and he brought it to his lips.

"And when I'm done, we won't talk about it ever again."

"We won't. I won't," he amended.

Mary nodded. She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and began to tell him her story.

She was seventeen years old, easily one of the more popular girls at her school but it didn't necessarily mean everyone liked her. She had been cruel at times, more so than even her adult self could be. There were plenty of people waiting for her to make the wrong step and watch her fall with glee (including Edith, who bore the brunt of her nastiness more than anyone else) but Mary hadn't ever done anything wrong— not in the eyes of her peers, anyway. Mama and Papa might disapprove of their eldest daughter sneaking out of the Abbey to go to parties and meet up with her boyfriends, but it only boosted her esteem at school.

At the time, Mary was dating Evelyn Napier, who was universally adored— and for good reason. He was a decent footballer and more importantly, a genuinely good person. He was sweet and kind, never rude to anyone. He had been her friend for years and shyly admitted the depth of his affection after she broke things off with a past boyfriend. Mary liked being his girlfriend: he treated her well and was very romantic, buying her flowers and complimenting her. Mama and Papa loved him... but Mary didn't. At least not in that way. She wanted to, very much, but Evelyn didn't inspire much passion within her.

There was, however, someone who did. Kemal Pamuk was Turkish foreign exchange student (who also played football) and staying with Evelyn and his family. Mary always felt guilty in taking great satisfaction in the way he looked at her but she did her best not to let it show. By the time he had entered their lives, her and Evelyn had been going out for two years. She didn't want to ruin it for some boy who would be going back to Turkey at the end of the semester, especially not one she didn't even properly know.

When Mary finally had the opportunity to have Downton Abbey to herself, she decided to throw a party. Edith was staying with a friend whereas Mama and Papa has travelled to London to support Sybil and her debate team. Evelyn, naturally, was invited, and he asked if he could bring Kemal along. Mary had accepted without a second thought.

But Mary's ironclad control over her emotions slipped. She drank more than she normally did, which led to her accidentally admitting to Kemal just how attractive she found him when Evelyn wasn't hovering near them. "Oh, God! I didn't mean to say that!" Mary clapped a hand to her mouth, nervous giggles escaping her, her other hand on Kemal's muscled arm as she leaned against him.

"So... you don't think I'm fit, then?" Kemal asked, amused and taking a small sip of his drink.

Mary shook her head. "No, you are..." Her words were already slurring together. "But Evelyn's my boyfriend."

Kemal simply smiled at her. "Don't worry, Mary. It will be our secret. Evelyn will never know."

She let out an almost theatrical sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you. You're really nice, did you know that?"

When Mary had finally stumbled up to her bedroom, she wasn't in the right state of mind. She was leaning on Evelyn, who helped her into bed. "You okay?" He asked, brushing back a strand of her hair as he sat on the edge of her bed.

Mary nodded, smiling up at him. She really did like him... "Okay." Evelyn leaned down, kissing her. He tasted like beer and marijuana, the latter of which they had been persuaded to try thanks to Kemal. Mary could still remember the look in his intense, dark eyes as he had practically challenged her. "Get some sleep. You'll need it." He went to rise out of bed.

"You can stay," she mumbled.

Evelyn shook his head, though he smiled at her in the most adoring way. "Not tonight. I'm going to sleep in one of the guest rooms." Mary felt mildly disappointed. Her and Evelyn hadn't gone all the way yet. He kept saying he wanted to wait for the right time. Mary had been more than a little frustrated, but she respected his decision. "I love you."

"Love you," she murmured back before he turned the lights off. It wasn't a complete lie, she told herself. She did love Evelyn, the same way she loved all her friends. So what if it wasn't some all consuming, passionate love? Mary wasn't even sure love like that even existed. When the door clicked shut behind him, she let her eyelids fall shut. It wouldn't be long before she fell asleep.

However, just before she could, the door opened again. "Evelyn?" she asked, figuring her boyfriend had forgotten something.

"No."

Mary was barely able to make him out in the dark but she recognized Kemal's voice. He turned the light on, walking through her room. "What are you doing here?" She sat upright, as much as she was able to. He looked so handsome, his curly hair falling in just the right way.

The answer he gave her was a kiss.

Mary's eyes were wide open in an instant. What was he thinking? She remained unresponsive to his kisses, even as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" she asked once she was able to pry herself away from him. "Evelyn—"

"Evelyn," Kemal cut her off, "will never know. It will be our secret." His hand moved down. Mary had been still. "I know you want me, Mary. I've seen the way you look at me. And I want you, too."

"No, we can't," she insisted as his lips went to her neck. She felt herself fall back onto her plush pillows. "We can't do this. It's not fair to him."

She was silenced when his lips went to hers again, his hand stroking her cheek almost in a mockery of the way Evelyn had not fifteen minutes ago. "He'll never know."

Mary woke up the following morning with a headache and goosebumps, in spite of Kemal's body on top of her. The events of the previous night came rushing back. The blankets were in a disarray, leaving their bare flesh exposed.

Mary was horrified, sick to her stomach for more reasons than one. Oh God... what had she done? How could she have done that to Evelyn?

She shook Kemal's sleeping form. "Get up! Wake up!" She whispered furiously, jostling him until he woke up. When his eyelashes fluttered, Mary hissed, "You have to go before anyone knows you were in here."

He gathered up his clothes, Mary turning her eyes away. She wouldn't look at him. He barely said a word to her, only making a brief mention about the blood on the sheets.

It was 6:21 in the morning when Kemal left her room, shirt unbuttoned. It was 6:21 in the morning when Edith returned home from her friend's house, needing to start work on an essay. She saw him leave her sister's room, but he hadn't seen her.

By Monday, everyone knew. Edith told somebody, who told somebody, who told somebody, and because Edith had been the one to spread the rumor, everyone believed it. She made it even worse by writing _SLUT_ in Mary's locker in lipstick, like a Scarlet Letter to publicize her shame. Suddenly Mary was no longer universally beloved. People stopped inviting her to things and she would overhear people calling her horrible names.

On some level, Mary felt she deserved it. She had said awful things about these people, now karma was coming back to bite her. As for the other matter, Mary felt it must be her fault. Why hadn't she stopped Kemal? He had probably thought she would want to, given at how flirtatious she had been earlier. Mary combed through all of their past interactions mentally, finding instances where she must have given him the wrong impression.

The only person who didn't believe the rumors was Evelyn. He asked her and Kemal both of it was true, to which they both solemnly swore it wasn't, even though Mary doing so wracked her with even more guilt. That was good enough for him. He was kind enough to ignore the others when they insisted he was too good for the likes of Mary. The rivalry between herself and Edith helped a bit, as Evelyn assumed it was the latter's vindictive streak trying to tear Mary down.

All the while, Mary felt like an imposter. She felt like her whole world had changed overnight. She stopped going to Evelyn's house in order to avoid Kemal and felt it was harder to play the part of adoring girlfriend when she knew he would be destroyed if she learned it was all true. And it wasn't just that— she bitterly regretted the person she had once been: shallow, cruel, and foolish.

It came as a relief when it came time to choose where to go to uni. Evelyn had been offered an opportunity to study in America at Columbia, a lifelong dream of his, whereas Mary had no intentions of leaving English soil. They came to the mutual decision to end their relationship but promised to remain friends. In truth, it was more a convenient excuse than anything else. Pretending everything was fine put a tremendous strain on Mary and Evelyn had noticed how she was withdrawing.

Uni offered Mary the opportunity to reinvent herself. She lived on campus with Anna Smith, who quickly became the most loyal friend she had ever had. Anna reserved all judgement so Mary knew that she could be entrusted with her worst secret. However, it didn't come out until after a night of drinking, where Mary told Anna the whole story.

Mary wasn't sure what she had been expecting: Anna, even when upset, wasn't the kind to belittle or insult. Disapproval, perhaps, or maybe even simply commenting that she had evidently become a better person since that night. What she wasn't prepared for her friend hugging her and saying, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

As an adult, Mary understood better that it hadn't been her fault at all. She had been under the influence, partially under Kemal's goading, and he took advantage of her. She didn't blame herself anymore for his actions. Still, it was time in her life she wanted to forget about and never talk about. Edith, however, never having learned the real story and Mary never having enlightened her, brought it up every once in a while when tensions between them rose, usually to question Mary's loyalty to her romantic partner. Matthew had known, which was why he had never paid any attention to it. He had suggested Mary tell her the reality of the situation but she didn't want to speak about it... just like how she hadn't wanted to tell now.

Nevertheless, Mary told him in a quiet, measured voice. "There," she concluded. "Now you know all of it."

Tom nodded. At some point during the story, his hand found hers, squeezing it periodically. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. I'm sure that wasn't easy for you." It sounded rehearsed, almost as if he was trying to keep his own emotions at bay. Mary remembered all too well how angry and furious Matthew had been, making threats that he would fly to Turkey to punch Kemal himself. As much as she loved Matthew, she found herself relieved that Tom was deliberately trying to keep himself subdued.

"I've always trusted you. It's never been about that," Mary told him. Her throat was sore from talking for so long. "I just— I know Edith and I have declared a truce but the fact is that we quarrel often. I didn't want her to say anything and make you think... think that I would ever do anything like that to you. Because I never would." _I never could._

Tom let out a breath, hand gripping hers again. "I know you wouldn't. I trust you. And I know you love me."

It was the first time he had really spoken about it since that night. Every once and a while, Mary would tell him again, to which he would respond with a kiss. Mary understood it was the only way he could say it back.

But now he was saying it— that word: _love_.

"Yes," said Mary faintly, a little voice in the back of her head telling her this moment was significant. "I do."

* * *

_MARY: We should really discuss what to do about the wedding bookings for 2021 soon. Will Wednesday work for you?_

_MARY: Hello?_

_MARY: Thomas is everything alright?_

_THOMAS: Yes. Sorry I didn't answer earlier. Our surrogate went into labor last night. Jimmy and I have a daughter._

_MARY: Congratulations! I'm so happy for you! Does she have a name?_

_THOMAS: We're still trying to decide now. We've narrowed it down to a few names. We haven't had a chance to meet her yet because of the restrictions at the hospital._

_MARY: Tom says congratulations as well! Please be sure to pass them along to Jimmy. Don't worry about work— Just focus on your family. I can hold down the fort._

* * *

Theresa Barrow-Kent had dark hair and adorably chubby cheeks. In the picture Thomas sent, she looked tiny in his arms as he stared down at her with the happiest expression she had ever seen him wear, rivaling even the smiles on his wedding day. Seeing Theresa reminded Mary of the fact she would soon have two of her own.

"She's cute! Can we go see her?" George asked after Mary showed him the picture.

"No, not yet," she said, endeared by his enthusiasm. He pouted, even though Mary did her best to explain that it wasn't safe at the moment.

The arrival of Thomas and Jimmy's baby, however, was a signal that it was almost time for the twins. Her and Tom has spent more than a few afternoons preparing the nursery for them as the children did their schoolwork online and Mary's stomach had grown larger and larger. They were almost ready...

Except for one thing.

"We have to name her, Tom," insisted Mary, who was taking this issue to heart.

"Of course we will," he assured her. "They won't let us leave if there isn't a name on the birth certificate."

There had been rigorous debate over the past few months, ever since they had decided Percy's. They'd decided on _Cara_ as a middle name but nothing else thus far. Whenever one of them thought of a name, the other wasn't as enthusiastic, and vice versa.

Mary felt in some ways like she was abandoning her daughter already. It didn't seem fair her brother already had a name whereas they still called her Baby Girl. Sybbie and George, of course, had offered suggestions— Elsa had been George's top pick whereas Sybbie had selected Bertha, thanks to a school project on Bertha of Kent. Tom and Mary had very politely thanked them for trying to help but told them they would name the baby.

If only it weren't so _hard_.

"We'll come up with something," Tom said after Mary once again insisted they come up with something. Then, almost as if the words were being forced out of him, he said, "Maybe we won't know until we meet her."

Mary shook her head. She wouldn't leave anything to chance, not after what they had been through last time. They would both name this baby, and they would do it before she was born.

"No," she told him firmly. "We'll come up with something." _We need to_ were the unspoken words.

* * *

"What do you mean? Why can't you drop it off at our house?"

"Please trust me on this, Mary." Before she could say anything, Papa insisted, "I promise, we'll keep it safe. We'll all be outside and have masks on. We can even stand one meter apart from one another."

Mary sighed. "Alright, then."

"And bring George and Sybbie. It's important they're there."

"Very well. Anything else?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I'm tired a lot, but I'm doing well." She waited a moment before adding, "When you see me on Monday, you'll be shocked at how enormous I am."

Papa chuckled. "And how are the twins?"

"Well, they can't really tell me themselves, but the doctor says they're healthy. I suppose he knows best."

"And Tom?"

"He's well... though I don't know how well he'll be on his birthday, depending on what you'll be getting him."

Papa sighed. "Try to have a little faith, Mary."

Mary held her tongue. Papa had begun the call explaining that he had a special gift for Tom to " _make amends_ " for the " _earlier unpleasantness"—_ but it required Mary waking early the morning of Tom's birthday and driving to Downton Abbey to pick it up. She wasn't enthused by the prospect and wary about this surprise of his.

"Very well."

"Excellent! I'll see you Monday!"

* * *

Sybbie and George were let in on the secret on Saturday, when Tom was suitably distracted assembling cribs in the new nursery. "What is it?" Sybbie asked in a whisper, giddy with excitement.

"I don't know. Donk just said it's a surprise for all of us." She only hoped it would be a good one.

Mary woke up much too early on Monday morning, her alarm piercing through her peaceful slumber. As she lay there, staring up at the ceiling with bleary eyes, Tom stirred beside her. _Damn._ "What's going on?" he mumbled. "You're not normally up this early."

Mary's sleep deprived brain struggled to think of an answer. "I have a Zoom meeting. With Thomas," she lied. "Their baby has an appointment this morning at the doctor's and 7 is the only time that will work."

Tom groaned, as if to commiserate with her. "I'd better make you some breakfast, then."

"No, don't." He couldn't leave this room, not if Papa's surprise was to be preserved. "It's your birthday. You deserve to have a lie in and get some more sleep." She leaned over to kiss him.

Tom let out a soft laugh. "That's right. It is my birthday."

"Did you forget?"

"Kind of. It wasn't the first thing I was thinking of when I woke up."

"Oh? And what were you thinking of, then?"

"You."

Her heart softened. "Any more talk like that and I'll be getting misty eyed," she warned him good naturedly, but kissed him again to let him know how throughly she had enjoyed his sentiments. "Just for that, I'll make breakfast. It'll have to be scrambled eggs but I'll let you eat them in bed and everything."

"I'm honored," Tom said, and though she knew he was joking, he sounded as if he meant it.

Mary kissed him one last time. "Get some more sleep, darling. I'll wake you up once everything's ready."

Tom seemed to accept that, eyes falling shut. Mary climbed out of bed and dressed quickly. She wasn't going to put much thought into her outfit before reminding herself it was Tom's birthday. _He won't care what you wear,_ Mary reminded herself, setting aside the original, more comfortable outfit. _He'd probably think you'd look lovely in a potato sack._ Nevertheless, she picked out a loose fitting, wine colored dress instead.

She was confident he was asleep when she slipped out of the room, rousing Sybbie and George with soft knocks on the door and poking her head inside to make sure they were awake.

The drive was a short one and Mary was still groggy, but Sybbie chattered away. How she could always be full of so much energy in the morning, Mary had no idea. She was certain it was something she must have inherited from Sybil, for Tom was never so verbose.

Mary parked the car once they arrived to Downton, reaching for her phone to text Papa.

_MARY: We're here_

_PAPA: Come out to the back_

By this point, George and Sybbie had clambered out of the vehicle and were chasing one another outside. Mary put her phone back in her purse. "Donk wants us in the backyard. Put your masks on, darlings," Mary told them, holding out the small cloth masks for them. They led the way as Mary waddled behind, mentally thinking Papa's gift had better be a damn good one. She wished she was still under the covers with Tom.

The outdoor patio area was something Mary personally felt detracted from the classic beauty of Downton, but she could grudgingly admit it was nice to have an outdoor entertainment space. Sybbie opened the gate leading to the fenced in area and Mary surveyed the empty patio. Papa was nowhere.

She was about to text him again when the back food opened. "Come on, now," she heard Papa say, only for Isis to amble down the steps, followed by six puppies, each wearing a different color collar.

George and Sybbie let out shrieks of delight as the dogs went over to greet them. However, Sybbie was momentarily distracted by her grandfather, crying out, "Donk!" and running towards him.

"Sybbie! You need to stay one meter away!" Mary called out, causing Sybbie to stop just a few meters away.

"I can still see you, my darling girl," Papa assured Sybbie. It was now that Mary realized he didn't have a gift in his arms. "Go play with the puppies now."

Sybbie didn't need to be told twice. She sat down on the grass, no doubt getting dirt in the back of her pants as two of the puppies ran over to sniff her. George had one in his lap already, licking his face.

Mary approached her father, who was watching the scene with fondness and arms behind his back, careful to stand one meter away before asking as quietly as possible, "Where's Tom's gift?"

Papa turned to her before nodding towards the children and dogs.

"You can't be serious!"

"Why not? You've spoke about getting a dog in the past—"

"In the past! Tom and I are going to have to contend with twins in two months! We can't raise two babies and a puppy!" Mary was already internally crying at the thought of being up all hours of the night with two babies while trying to housebreak a puppy.

"I've made sure they are all potty trained and have some basic training. They can sit and lay down." He straightened his shoulders. "And I was planning on coming over to install a doggy door leading to your backyard."

"It's still a lot of work. How exactly is this supposed to be a gift for Tom?"

"George and Sybbie can help with that... and it's more of a gift for your whole family, and Tom is a part of that."

Mary would have been pleased if she weren't still livid. "You should have told me that you were planning on getting us something alive." A second later, she venomously added, "That's why you made me bring George and Sybbie along, so I would feel guilty if I said no."

"No— because I want them to pick out the puppy that is best suited to be around them and small children." He turned towards her. "Your babies will grow up with a best friend and the dog will love and protect you all."

"And suppose you're wrong? Suppose the dog is bad tempered or one of the twins is allergic to dogs?"

"Then your Mama and I will take it back and you can still come and see it or we'll rehome it, depending on the circumstances," Papa said simply. He turned towards the puppies again. "We're already keeping the one with the pink collar. Your Mama loves her." He paused before adding, "And this is to be Isis's last litter. The vet doesn't think she'll have anymore. To be honest, I don't think I want to keep up with the breeding any longer... so I wanted you to have one of her puppies."

_Damn._ Of course he had to add that. There was a questioning gaze in his eye that Mary refused to respond to until he asked, "So will you?"

It was mad and Tom might very well hate this idea, but Mary nodded regardless... and they were adorable puppies. She saw his eyes crinkle up before he turned back to the children. He took a couple steps towards them before saying, "Now, you get to take one of these puppies home with you—" which meant there were plenty of shrieks of excitement. "Except for Tiaa. She's staying with me and your Grandmama."

George and Sybbie mutually decided upon the puppy with the blue collar, which was a boy with the same color fur as Isis. He had been climbing on their laps in order to lick their faces and wagged his tail. Mary didn't think was sanitary at all but he did seem like a sweet little thing.

Papa ran back into the house to fetch a leash. "If you pull your car up to the front of the house, I can put all your other dog related supplies in the trunk," he said, with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. "And your Mama will want to say hello. She's just drinking some coffee now."

The hellos were brief as Mary reminded them they needed to get home and see Tom. "Don't forget to remind him to give the puppy an Egyptian name!" Papa called putting as she started up the car again.

"Why do I need to remind Tom?" asked Mary. She figured the children would be the ones naming him.

"It's his birthday! You aren't going to let the man name his own puppy?"

George and Sybbie were positively bursting at the seams when they got home. "Can we take him upstairs to surprise Daddy?" asked George, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"Yes, you can. But wait until I'm there with you." Somehow Mary suspected that he would be less upset with her for approving the mad scheme if he saw how happy their adorable children were with the equally adorable puppy.

Thankfully, Mary didn't need to worry all that much. Tom seemed overjoyed after waking up to the puppy licking his face and rivaled the children in their enthusiasm. "I'm glad you're pleased," said Mary as she made good on her promise to make him breakfast. "I wasn't sure you would be."

Tom leaned against the door frame between the kitchen and dining room, a curious expression on his face. "I like dogs... and we've always talked about it. It's not like we'll be getting sleep anyway."

"Maybe so, but it does seem terribly unfair our last few months of uninterrupted sleep should come to an end so soon." Mary turned back to the eggs. "George and Sybbie have promised to help with him but I have a horrible feeling most of the responsibility will fall onto you."

"Everything will work out alright." She could hear his bare feet padding against the hardwood floor before he finally wrapped her into a hug from behind. "Don't worry about me."

"It's my job to worry about you," she insisted, but smiled, stirring the eggs about. "Have you named your dog yet?"

"No," sighed Tom into her ear before releasing her. "I don't understand why I can't name him whatever I want to. I thought the Egyptian thing was reserved to your father's dogs."

"You _can_ name him whatever you like, darling... just know you'll have to answer to Papa for not keeping with tradition."

Tom laughed. "Shouldn't he expect that from me by now?"

—

Mary's eyelids felt heavy as she leaned against Tom on the sofa. It had been a long day for them; they had been up late in the night to place Santa's gifts under the tree (with the added complication this year of having George's bedroom so near).

As they dragged themselves up the stairs for what she was certain would not be a long sleep, Tom made her pause on the landing. "Wait," he whispered to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. Knowing what was happening, Mary smiled and closed her eyes. It was light kiss, far less intense than the one from last year, but just as wonderful.

"There," murmured Tom when he drew away. "We've made it a tradition now."

Mary beamed. "You know, if you had told me this is where we would be a year ago, I wouldn't have believed you... but I'm so glad we are."

"I am, too." Tom leaned in to kiss her again, in such a way that Mary now was confident they would be getting even less sleep tonight.

She had been right; Sybbie and George woke them up around seven o'clock, eager to see what Father Christmas had brought. Even so, without sleep, it had been a success. Thanks to Zoom and some coordinating ahead of time, the entire family (even Granny, who wasn't the most adept with technology) was able to get on Zoom and watch presents being opened. It was marvelous, even though Mary caught her mother and Edith occasionally making faces whenever Mary did something to make it blatantly obvious that her and Tom were a couple.

"Are you sleepy?"

Mary nodded. "A little." It was an understatement, but she felt if she betrayed just how tired she really was, Tom would insist she go to bed. He was fretting over her constantly now. She didn't mind, since she knew it was out of love, and he was learning to take her feelings on the matter into consideration. She was content where she was at present, and she knew he would never let her sleep on this couch.

"Not too tired for bed?"

"No... Why, what do you have planned?"

"I've got another gift for you."

"Oh?" Mary arched an eyebrow as Tom rose to his feet. She wondered what it could possibly be. After having such a wonderful day, it seemed almost impossible that there was still more. After a moment or two, she found herself saying, "I hope you realize it isn't absolutely necessary to spoil me this much."

"I disagree." Tom appeared once more, something in his hand. "It's the least I can do right now... and in a few weeks from now, I suspect you'll be having some negative feelings directed at me, so I want to make sure I do enough now to offset it."

Mary chuckled slightly, but met his eye as he sat down on the couch. "I won't," she promised, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding whatever this mysterious gift was...

For a brief moment, Mary wondered if it was a ring. _Don't be ridiculous,_ she chastised herself. Tom had been upfront with her already on where he stood on marriage; the only reason he had proposed before was because Papa had gotten to him. In all honesty, Mary would be perfectly content if they never married at all, as long as they remained together... but it still seemed much too soon.

The box he handed her was too big to be a ring. Mary ignored the illogical sting of the realization, instead removing the red bow on top of it and opening it. "Oh, Tom," she gasped, "it's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it." He sat beside her, eager. "I'm sure in a few more weeks your thoughts towards me won't be so charitable."

Mary shook her head, looking up from the sparking necklace. "I know it will hurt something fierce but I'm ready to give birth. I'm tired of being the size of a boat."

Tom's smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "What is it?" she demanded, albeit kindly. "Tell me. Please."

Tom sighed. "It's silly—"

"I'm sure it isn't."

Tom shook his head, wearing a slightly more genuine smile. "No. It is." He paused before saying, "I... I don't know if I'm ready. For you to give birth."

"That's not silly at all." She placed her hand on his arm.

"That's not the silly part." Tom moved the arm she was touching to wrap it around her shoulders. He pulled her close to him. "The silly part was... just for a second, I thought... I was thinking how I wish you could be pregnant forever. And not because I don't want to meet them but... but so I could know you would be safe."

_Oh, Tom._ Mary angled her head to kiss him. Her hand went to rest over his heart. "Darling, with everything you've gone through, you've every right to worry and have as many silly thoughts as you like."

"I know that neither of us have a say in when it'll happen... and it will happen and I'm going to be so happy to meet them but I'm scared, too."

"Of course you are." Mary's other hand settled on his cheek. He almost looked ready to cry. "I'm scared, too. I'm scared about so many things this time around that I wasn't afraid of with George. I'm scared about going to hospital during a pandemic and about giving birth to two babies instead of one... but I think the thing that scares me the most is what will happen when you drive home and leave me at the hospital." It took all her strength to remain composed but she forced herself not to lose herself. "Because the last time that happened, I never saw him again. And... I don't think..." It was getting harder and harder to speak without her voice shaking, "... No, I know that if the same thing happens again I'll never recover."

Tom kissed her forehead as Mary let her eyes close. "Oh, Mary," he mumbled against her skin, arms wrapping tighter around her. "I won't leave. Not until you're ready for me to. I'll stay with you. I promise."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," she confessed. Even though Tom was a good driver and would no doubt be careful, Mary knew she would be a paranoid mess the whole time.

"Then I won't leave."

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll need your things at some point..."

"I'll pack everything when we leave, then." He rubbed her shoulder. "We'll come up with something... but I won't break my promise."

Mary felt like her heart had melted. It scared her a bit, that Tom was able to affect her in such a way, but mostly she was glad. Only Matthew had been able to soften her before and she had been quite confident no one could make her feel this way again. She was glad, for once, to be wrong.

With a warm smile, she handed him the necklace. "Help me put it on?" She turned away, Tom's fingertips brushing against the nape of her neck to move her hair a second later. That was followed by his lips, causing her to shiver before his hands moved around to put the necklace into place.

"Why did you wait to give this to me?" Mary asked as he clasped it. "Why couldn't the children watch me open it?"

"Well... I had an idea."

"I'm intrigued. Do tell."

"I was thinking... when we go to bed, you could leave the necklace on and take everything else off."

Mary smiled brilliantly, a little pleased he couldn't see it. It was gratifying, knowing that in spite of her being enormous, that he still wanted her. "And if I had been too tired, then what? Would you have waited?"

"No," said Tom, moving her hair back into place. "I just would have had you open it upstairs and made my suggestion some other time."

Mary turned around. "How lucky that you don't have to worry about that," she said playfully, letting her hand rest on his chest again. She delighted in feeling his heart rate increase beneath her fingertips. "Though to be honest, I don't know if you'll ever have to worry about me being too tired for you."

"I hope you know I'll tease you mercilessly for that when we have two crying babies to to deal with," Tom said, grinning as his hand came to rest on her cheek. "And Seth," he added on as an afterthought, as if he had somehow forgotten about the puppy.

"Well, when that time comes, I'll be very surprised if you have enough energy to even think of such a thing," retorted Mary before kissing him, swallowing up his burst of laughter.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the patience! Here is the last official chapter of New Normal! I'll be posting the epilogue tomorrow! Until then, I want to thank you for sticking with Tom, Mary, and me for this long! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**New Normal**

**Chapter Twenty** **Five**

It came as somewhat of a relief to watch 2020 come to a close. _Good riddance_ was one phrase that came to mind among others but Mary felt strangely melancholy when midnight came. "It wasn't such a bad year, was it?" she asked Tom was they walked up the stairs, ready for bed. The children (and Seth, who insisted upon sleeping in Sybbie's room) were already in bed.

Tom paused on the landing. "No," he said with a smile, one that made her heart melt. "No, it wasn't all bad." His hand wrapped around her, settling on her hip.

It was so strange, mused Mary, that a year ago this would have been unthinkable. Perhaps it spoke to the irregularity and strangeness of 2020, but Mary thought back what Tom said, the night they finally confessed how they felt, how it seemed it was inevitable for them to end up with one another.

She had to agree. Everything about being with Tom felt _right_. He knew her and she him and they were able to anticipate what the other needed and provide support. They worked well as a team and as coparents. Though she had no way of anticipating the future, Mary almost felt confident enough to be certain that things could be this good forever.

Mary didn't have an inkling as to what was going on in his head until they were in bed, cuddled under the mountain of blankets. Crawley House was an old one and not very well insulated. Having someone to share the covers with made a world of difference.

The light from her lamp illuminated the room. Mary was about to ask him if he was ready for her to turn it off when Tom (who had been oddly quiet) said, "There's something I need to tell you."

Those seven words sent a chill up her spine that had nothing to do with the winter. "Goodness. That sounds rather serious," she said as casually as she could, settling down, yet unable to maintain a façade of ease. "Though it's nothing bad, I hope?"

"God, no." Mary let out a sigh of relief. It was just now that she realized how nervous he looked. Her anxiousness was replaced by intrigue. "Far from it."

Mary did her best to remain patient as Tom hesitated, seeming to try to gather up his courage. Finally, he took her hand in his. "You know that you make me very happy, don't you?"

"I certainly try to," Mary said quietly, having an inkling now of what he was about to say.

"Well, you do," Tom assured her, meeting her eyes. Mary was unable to look away, astonished by the pure adoration in his gaze. "I mean that."

"I'm glad."

"And I wanted to start 2021 out right by telling you that I love you."

Mary couldn't believe it... surely she had misheard. But Tom was sitting there, eyes glued to her face, apprehensive and waiting for some sort of reaction. "You do?"

Tom looked slightly less nervous, nodding. "I do. Very much. And I have for some time now." His hand gripped hers, as if to emphasize his point. Mary felt her lips twitch without her own volition, unable to control her smile. "But I've been afraid until now to say anything."

"Why's that?" Mary released one of his hands to stroke his cheek. Had she done something to make him doubt or worry?

A somewhat pained expression crossed his face. Mary wondered if she had said the wrong thing until he said, "Because of Sybil."

It wasn't entirely unexpected. "Oh."

"I was... I was worried that saying it would mean that... that I had somehow forgotten about her and what we had together."

"It doesn't," insisted Mary, feeling the need to reassure him.

"I know that." His voice had dropped to a whisper. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "But at the time, I was still grappling with how I felt and being honest with myself. I hadn't really allowed myself to really move on... and the fact that it was with her sister was all the more difficult for me to face." He squeezed her hand before meeting her eyes. "But I'm done with hiding it. I love you, Mary Crawley." He cracked a smile before adding, "And not just as a best friend."

Mary felt her eyes fill with tears. Knowing she was going to be a blubbering mess, she kissed him. He laughed against her lips before returning it with equal ferocity. There were no words to describe her sheer joy as she let her fingers run through his hair.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," Tom said he pulled away, one hand reaching up to wipe her cheeks.

"Don't worry. These are just because I'm so happy," Mary managed to profess, kissing him again. "Oh, Tom—"

This segued into several silent moments of kissing, holding one another close and smiling against one another's lips. Mary still had a hard time grasping that it was real, half convinced it would be a dream she would wake up from soon... Though this was dispelled when they finally parted, lips swollen but grinning widely.

A contented silence passed over them. "It's the same way for me," she told him, feeling the need to reassure him. "With Matthew. I won't forget him... and I don't ever want to."

Tom nodded. "I think that might be why. Part of why," he amended. "Because I know you understand what it's like for me. And you won't resent her and what she meant to me, because you loved her too and you've gone through what I have." He looked down at their intertwined hands. "But I love you because of who you are. You were my best friend and I always loved spending time with you and I love being with you..." He trailed off, eyes filled with tears as he steadily grew more and more emotional.

Mary kissed him softly, as a way of saying _I know_ and simply held him, happier than she had been in a long time.

* * *

It was halfway through breakfast on a Friday morning when Mary felt the beginning pains. It wasn't anything severe, just enough to be noticeable. Mary stilled. No... it couldn't be...

But, Mary quickly realized, it _could_ be. Her due date was only a few days away...

But she wasn't ready yet.

They were ready in all the physical ways. Tom had set the nursery up almost singlehandedly, proudly showing off each new element to her. Their bags were packed and ready. Isobel and Dickie were on standby at a moment's notice, planning on staying with Sybbie, George, and Seth...

But Mary wasn't prepared yet. In her mind she had only abstractly thought about what this would entail. The possibility they would have to face it head on in only a few hours time was a terrifying one. Furthermore, her and Tom still had yet to come a consensus on a name for their daughter. Tom had suggested _Josephine_ as a way to name the baby after her, but Mary didn't want that. She respected and loved him for naming Sybbie after Sybil, but she wanted her daughter to have a name that was just hers— perhaps something similar to someone they loved, but she wasn't about to name her after anyone outright.

So Mary said nothing. She continued eating breakfast with ease, ignoring it to the best of her abilities. She chastised George for sneaking pieces of sausage to Seth and listened as Sybbie enthusiastically started telling them about what they were learning in her science class. She didn't even say a word to Tom as he kissed her cheek before 'going to work'— that is, stepping into the office. "Tell me if you need anything," he told her.

"I will," she promised, feeling a little guilty for not speaking up then. She tried to tell herself that there was no need to stress him out, not when he was already as nervous (if not more) as she was about all of this. She took her place on the sofa, where she no doubt would be for some time.

As she tried to arrange herself into a comfortable position, Seth wandered over to her, tail wagging and laying his face on her knee. She reached out to pet his head but sternly said, "No— you know you aren't allowed on this couch." He have her _those eyes_ as Tom called them, wagging his tail. "Oh, fine." He jumped onto the empty cushion beside Mary, who started petting him.

But throughout the day, the pain grew worse. Mary started timing the lapses between the pains, slowly accepting the fact that she was experiencing contractions and that they were twenty minutes apart. It was going faster than it had with George— which had been quite fast as it was, for a first pregnancy.

Mary was in the middle of typing out a text to Isobel to inform her and Dickie that they may be needed when Tom left the office for some lunch. "How are you?" He asked easily, joining her on the sofa, which Seth had vacated some time ago in favor of food and napping in front of Sybbie's bedroom. His expression quickly darkened. "Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Mary told him with as level a voice as she could manage. "Don't panic," she instructed, recalling the state he had been in when she went into labor with George, "but I'm having contractions, so it seems the twins are on their way."

Tom's eyes widened. "Oh God," he said, eyes already roving over her body as if something was terribly wrong. "How long has it been going on?"

"A while," she admitted. "I didn't want to worry you." She wasn't quite willing to let him know it had been going on all morning.

"Mary," he said, almost disapprovingly, but without any edge. "Why didn't you say?"

"Because you were working and I'm not ready yet!" she burst out, near tears. "But apparently they are, so it doesn't seem as though I have much choice in it."

"Breathe, Mary," Tom said, hands resting on either side of her face, meeting her eyes. "That's it. Try to stay calm, my love."

 _My love._ It was a term of endearment Tom had started using in the past few days that Mary had enjoyed hearing. Something about those words managed to center her, allowing her eyes to fall shut as she inhaled deeply.

"Right," she heard Tom say. "I'll just go up and fetch the bags so we can go to the hospital—"

Her eyes flew open. "It's not that soon yet, Tom. We'll have a while to go... but we should tell Dickie and Isobel first before we abandon the two children we do have."

Tom nodded, less frantic now. "Right. Of course. Sorry."

Mary shook her head. "I think we're both quite anxious this time around... which makes plenty of sense."

"Can I do anything for you?"

"If you just sit here with me for a while, I think that might help." It would do nothing to counteract the periodic pains (which Mary knew would only grow exponentially worse as the day wore on) but it would do wonders for her nerves, knowing that Tom was here.

"I can do that," Tom said, adjusting himself in such a way so she could lean on him. She reclined herself slightly, letting her eyes fall shut.

A few minutes of silence passed, where Tom let his fingers run through her hair and smart concentrating on him and her breathing before that silence was broken. "She still doesn't have a name," Mary reminded him.

"I know." Tom's fingers stilled.

"We need to come up with something," she said, almost desperately.

"We will."

"We don't have much time."

"I know. But we will. Something will occur to us." He angled himself so he could drop a kiss to her forehead.

Mary felt close to tears again. How could he know that? Still, she tried to focus on relaxing. It wouldn't be good for Percy or Baby Girl for her to be so upset...

Tom reluctantly stood up to make lunch for all of them. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Positive," she told him, even though she selfishly wished he could stay... but they needed to eat, especially George and Sybbie. "I think I'll tell Isobel. So they are aware."

"Right. Of course." Tom still seemed a but scattered but otherwise unaffected, which was a good thing. She worried he would be in the same, panicked state he had been when George was born. She knew he must be a wreck right now but she admired him marvelously to being able to hold it together.

_MARY: I'm having contractions now, so I expect you and Dickie will be needed tonight to stay with the little ones_

_ISOBEL: Oh how wonderful! How far apart are they?_

_MARY: The last one was twenty minutes. They aren't very long either, so it will be sometime. I just wanted to prepare you._

_ISOBEL: Of course. Keeping track of things and please try to relax._

Mary managed a small smile. Her and Tom had been uneasy about deciding about who should watch George and Sybbie when she went into labor, but Isobel had insisted. "I was so unfair to you and I want so badly to make it up to you in this way," insisted Isobel. Her and Dickie had been taking every precaution, especially in preparation for this. There had been worry over hurt feelings from Mary's parents, but thankfully Mama and Papa understood why Isobel wanted to help and accepted as someone with medical knowledge, Mary might be comforted by having her nearby.

During lunch, the pain steadily grew worse. She was able to carry on as normal for the most part, excluding a moment where George saw her wince and gave her a confused look. Mary simply plastered on a smile and asked him a question to distract him.

As things progressed, however, it was unavoidable to keep it from them any longer. When Mary's contractions grew closer together, it was clear it was almost time to go to the hospital so they told both the children. George was excited, jumping up and down, which subsequently caused Seth to bark and wag his tail.

"George, darling, please settle down," Mary said wearily as Seth let out another loud _woof_!

"What are you going to name her?" He asked, paying little attention her request.

"It's a surprise," Tom said quickly. Mary admired him for thinking up the fib so quickly— she didn't know if she couldn't handle them offering up any new suggestions. "Now I need to go upstairs and fetch mine and Mummy's things for when we leave."

"Can I help?" asked George, still enthusiastic.

"Course you can," Tom said with a smile as he walked towards the stairs. He was followed by George and Seth, who both pushed past him and ran the rest of the way up.

Once it was just her and Sybbie left, Mary realized how quiet the young girl was. Her arms were crossed over her chest, expression unreadable. Mary suddenly had a vision of her younger self, wondering if this had been a common sight for Mama and Papa when she had been growing up. "Are you alright?"

Sybbie seemed startled by Mary's question, as if she had been lost in thought, but nodded. Mary still wasn't at ease, though. She seemed far too quiet. "Are you not looking forward to the babies?" asked Mary, worried. "Because it's alright if you are. I wasn't exactly looking forward to having a younger sibling when your Mama was born, but I did come to love her." Mary had been too young to remember Edith's birth, but she had been decidedly unenthusiastic to have another little sister after Mama and Papa had told her and Edith. It wasn't until she met Sybil in the hospital and was allowed to hold her that Mary warmed up to the idea.

"No," answered Sybbie. "I want to meet them. Babies are cute."

"Then what is it? You can tell me." Mary patted the empty seat next to her in the couch.

Sybbie took it hesitantly. Mary was about to ask again when Sybbie abruptly asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

Mary was a little taken aback. "Of course I am. It will hurt for a little while but then I'll be right as rain." She absentmindedly reaches out to stroke Sybbie's hair. It was thin and fine, like Tom's.

"You aren't going to die?"

Mary supposed she should have expected it but she was nevertheless stunned into silence by Sybbie's question. Truthfully, she didn't know how to answer. A few years ago, Mary would have never worried about dying in childbirth; Sybil's death had changed that. There was that small chance, one that Mary didn't want to wave away for fear of tempting fate, but she also wanted to reassure her niece.

"I was perfectly alright when I had George and my doctor says that the babies and I are healthy, so I should be just fine," answered Mary carefully. "Please don't worry about me, darling."

It was just then that a knock came at the door. Mary tried to push herself to her feet, only to find the task impossible with her enormous stomach. "Can you please open the door for me?" she asked Sybbie, who promptly ran to fetch it. Moments later she heard the door open and Isobel and Dickie's voices start filtering in.

"Tom's just upstairs grabbing our things," explained Mary when Isobel helped her off the couch after interrogating Mary about everything. "The guest bedrooms are mostly ready— I'm sorry, but we didn't get a chance to make the beds just yet, but the sheets are in the closet—"

"Oh, Mary, don't worry about that. Dickie and I will manage perfectly well." Isobel have her a reassuring smile. "And if we have any questions about where to find things, we'll ask George and Sybbie."

Mary glanced over Isobel's shoulder, relieved to find Sybbie suitably engaged in regaling Dickie in some story about Seth. "Will you please keep an eye on her? She's terribly worried about something happening to me."

"That's not really a surprise, given the circumstances," Isobel said sadly. "That poor little dear. I'll do what I can."

The sound of feet and paws coming down the stair alerted everyone's attention to George and Seth, the latter of whom beelined to Dickie while wagging his tail. "Daddy said to come tell you that he's getting the toothbrushes and then he'll be down," George informed Mary.

"Thank you, darling. I suppose I'd best start putting on my shoes and coat." It somehow occurred to her just then that it really was happening, that her babies were coming. It was a surreal sensation, as she numbly began slipping on her coat, Sybbie hovering near her all the while like a miniature shadow.

"I think I have everything," Tom said as he met her by the door, balancing the bags with his arms as one hand was digging in his pocket for his keys. "We should be ready to go."

"Are you sure you should be driving, Tom?" asked Isobel.

"Course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because your hands are shaking."

It wasn't until Isobel drew her attention to it that Mary realized she was right. The keys were rattling together, jingling like wind chimes. With his nerves like that, it seemed like a terrible idea to let him drive... and furthermore, Mary didn't want him to. "Darling, perhaps you should let someone else do it."

"Well, _you_ can't drive."

" _I_ know that—"

"I can do it," offered Dickie, injecting his voice into the fray. "I don't mind."

"Perfect. That's settled, then."

"But what about the car?" Tom asked.

"We don't need the car," insisted Mary, meeting his eye. It was one way, she supposed, on ensuring he wouldn't leave and end up in a wreck. "You won't be leaving the hospital anyway, so what difference will it make?"

Tom blinked before finally nodding. "Right. Okay." He moved to hand the keys to Dickie, who suggested they take his and Isobel's car instead.

Saying goodbye to the children was emotional— for Mary, at least. They wouldn't be permitted into the hospital so Mary knew it was some time before she would see them again. Hugging George and saying farewell was hard but somehow it was even worse with Sybbie. She buried her face into Mary's neck and whispered, "I love you, Mum."

Mary had to blink rapidly. "I love you too, Sybbie darling. We'll be home soon."

"Are you okay?" Tom asked as he helped her to the car, able to tell something was amiss.

Maybe if it had been just them, Mary would have told him, but Dickie was right there. "Just fine," she said, squeezing his hand.

* * *

However, once they reached the hospital, it was harder to pretend everything was fine— for both of them. Tom kept asking nurses questions if Mary was alright, leading one to chuckle and ask if this was these were their first children.

"Tom, please stop pacing," she requested as he rose from his chair for the umpteenth time to circle her bed like a shark.

"Sorry," Tom said, forcing himself back into his chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to give birth," Mary replied, a little more snappy than she intended. "It isn't exactly pleasant."

"I know. I'm sorry." Mary instantly felt guilty, noting the mournful look in his eyes. "I just feel so useless."

"Let's see if you'll be saying that when I delegate you to diaper duty," Mary said, aiming at humor.

Tom's lips twitched but he still didn't smile. "I just hate seeing you in pain," he told her lowly.

"I know you do. Just keep talking to me. It will distract me."

"Okay."

Mary squeezed his hand tightly, and it wasn't because of any pain. "We still don't have a name," she murmured to him. Mary found herself increasingly worried that she wouldn't have one until after she was born...

"I know. We'll think of something." Tom paused before asking, "How do you like the name Olivia?"

Mary shook her head. "I had a class in uni with a girl called Olivia. She was horrid."

Tom let out a chuckle. "Why is it you seem to know so many horrid people with names I suggest?" he teased.

Mary was about to respond when suddenly she was led down a train of thought—

Which was promptly interrupted as a nurse stepped into the room to check on her and see how far she was dilated.

When it finally happened, it wasn't at all how Mary had ever envisioned it— in a hospital with Tom standing beside her, medical masks on both their faces and she pushed, in unbearable pain. God, she had forgotten how horrible this was— "One more, Mary," urged the doctor.

"You can do it, love," urged Tom as she squeezed his hand with the same amount of force a boa constrictor would its prey. A second later, she heard a cry pierce the air.

Mary allowed herself to collapse against the pillows with a smile. She had done it... "Here's the baby boy. Would you like to hold him, Tom?"

Tom glanced down at her, as if asking for permission. "Oh, go on," Mary encouraged him, too tired to sound enthusiastic. Thankfully, that didn't deter Tom, who excitedly went to take their son from the doctor.

"Oh, God, Mary," she heard him say somewhere near the foot of her bed as Percy continued to cry. "He's so beautiful."

Before she could even ask to see him, Tom was returning to her, lowering him into her arms. He continued to cry, but Mary was able to see him. There was fuzzy, dark brown hair that was almost black at the top of his head and his cheeks were rounded. He was absolutely perfect. "It's alright, darling," Mary murmured to him, trying to soothe him as best she could.

But it wasn't the end. About half an hour later, the same thing was happening all over again. Somehow, it wasn't nearly as bad as before, but Mary still couldn't help but be on edge the whole time, convinced something would happen.

Tom was similarly worried. She could still see the apprehension in his eyes each time he looked at her. It was exhausting, giving birth, while repeatedly assuring him, " _I'm alright, this is normal_ ," anytime she grimaced with pain— especially since this was the second time and when she certainly didn't feel alright. There finally came the point where she could no longer pretend for his sake, making noises that sounded almost inhuman. She couldn't wait until this was finally over...

And when it was, it was well worth it. Their daughter was tiny and beautiful, though a little larger than her brother. Mary was suddenly struck by her resemblance to George as a baby. She didn't cry nearly as much as Percy but she was still loud.

"Tom, she's perfect," Mary whispered as she held their daughter.

"They both are," he answered, voice full of adoration. "I can't believe we made them."

Mary couldn't believe it, either. She was struck by how drastically their lives had changed since last January. She never would have believed that her and Tom would become parents again, and to twins at that, but she knew she wouldn't have it any other way. Perhaps they weren't the most conventional or normal family, but it was the best one in her eyes.

* * *

Mary awoke as the nurse came into the room to check her vital signs. Her eyelashes fluttered as she heard the woman typing at the computer but instead came to look at Tom, who was sleeping on the couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, socks still on his feet, which were perched on the armrest. Thank God he was here... Mary immediately felt at ease and fell back asleep.

A few hours later, she woke up again to the sounds of a crying baby. Something nudged her and her eyes opened. She found Tom standing over her, dark circles under his eyes but crinkled in such a way she knew he was smiling beneath his mask. "Someone wants their Mummy," he told her.

Mary glanced down and saw the blue cap. "He's probably hungry," she mumbled, though she likely wasn't heard over the sound of his wails. It was only after she started feeding him that she realized a nurse was in the room as well with Baby Girl, who handed her over to Tom.

"Is she asleep?" Mary asked once the nurse left.

Tom nodded. "She must be a heavy sleeper." He sat down in the chair beside Mary's bed.

She managed a smile. "Have you told anybody yet?" She asked, voice hushed.

"No, not yet. I probably should have," Tom admitted, "but I didn't want to without asking you first... and it was late."

"What time is it now?"

"Just before eight o'clock."

"Hm. It doesn't feel like it."

"No," he agreed, "it doesn't."

For the first time in hours (at least, while conscious), Mary was at ease. There was no threat of something happening to Tom, just as there was nothing to suggest anything would happen to her. It felt so perfectly natural to be sitting here like this with Tom, with their babies.

"I had a thought last night," Mary spoke quietly, glancing up at Tom from the bed. "Viola."

Tom looked up. "Viola?"

"Yes. For her."

Tom looked from Mary back down to their daughter. "I think it's perfect."

Mary's relief was palpable. "Do you really think so?"

"I do." Tom maneuvered himself just enough so that he could bend over, pull down his mask, and kiss her. "And it's close to Violet... and she's been easily been our biggest champion."

"That's what I was thinking," revealed Mary, pleased to know he had picked up on that.

Texts were sent out shortly thereafter, informing everyone of the births of Percy and Viola Branson. The congratulations came piling in, from Edith and Bertie to all four Bateses. "Anna says she can't wait for Belle to meet her best friends once all this is over," Tom said, reading off his phone.

Mary beamed. Though they may have been unplanned, Percy and Viola were lucky enough to be guaranteed two playmates in Theresa (who Thomas now calling Tessa) Barrow-Kent and Belle Bates. She suspected they would be in the same classes once they started to school... which was incomprehensible for her to imagine while they were so tiny.

"Isobel sends her love," Tom said a moment later as another text came in. "She wonders if now would be a good time for us to FaceTime the children." He frowned. "She says Sybbie had a rough night."

"Oh no," Mary said, wondering now if she should have told him about her anxieties over Mary giving birth. "We'd better say hi to them, then, to show them we're all four of us well."

George and Sybbie were thankfully enthused and in much brighter spirits than Mary expected when they called them. George cooed over the babies and Sybbie was smiling, asking Mary if it hurt. "It did, but I'm perfect alright, darling," answered Mary, eager to soothe her worries.

It didn't occur to Mary until that evening that the danger was finally over. Dr. Ryder wasn't concerned about her health nor them at of the babies, and Tom was almost always in her line of sight, save for trips to her bathroom. It really would be alright this time...

"Are you alright?" Tom asked, noting her pensiveness when the nurses took the babies out of the room for some additional tests.

Mary nodded slowly. "I'm just... so happy." Maybe she didn't sound it, but she was.

"I am, too," Tom said, reaching for her hand again. It felt warm, a wonderful contrast to the cool hospital air. "I love you— all three of you— so much."

Mary nodded, the lump in her throat preventing her from speaking again. This was her happy ending, she realized, and what a wonderful one it was.


	26. Chapter 26

**New Normal**

**Epilogue**

_Some time in the future_

Even though it was just the two of them and he had seen her shed plenty of tears over the years, Mary couldn't help but feel somewhat embarrassed. Still, she was smiling, looking down at his expectant face. His hands were clutching hers, which meant she couldn't wipe away any tears.

"Tom... you don't have to do this," she choked out, putting aside her own selfish desires. This was everything she has dreamed of for years but now that it was in front of her, she knew she couldn't accept.

"I know." He was still gazing up at her. "But I love you. And I love our life and our children... and it would make me very happy if you would accept."

Mary swallowed, thinking back to the first time he made this particular offer. Things were already different; instead of casually making the suggestion on the couch in between commercial breaks, he had spontaneously appeared at the office just before her lunch and taken her for a picnic and a walk along the estate, stopping by the bench that she had now come to view as _theirs_ rather than just _hers—_ it was, after all, in some ways the place where it had all began, even though they hadn't known it yet. He was on one knee, gazing up at her with the love she knew he felt.

"You aren't... you aren't just doing this because of the twins, are you?" The words were out before she could stop them. "I mean—"

Tom let out a sigh. "When I asked you this question before, I wasn't asking you for the right reasons." They had never discussed this before, not since the morning after in the kitchen. "I wasn't honest with myself back then. I didn't want to lose you but I didn't know what I was feeling... and I didn't know how to tell you, either. And Robert has put the idea in my head..." Tom trailed off. "But this time, it's different. I've thought it through. I'm asking you the way you deserve to be asked... and because I want to." He swallowed. "To be completely honest, Mary, I've known for years now that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you... back when we really were just friends. Even then, I couldn't imagine the rest of my life without you in it."

She wanted to say yes. So, so badly. "But what about Sybil?" This was the crux of the matter, at least for her. In a perfect world, this wouldn't be happening.

A sad look crossed his face. Mary tried to hide her disappointment. Of course... now that she had invoked those magic words, all possibility of this would be lost to her. It was the only sensible thing to do and Mary knew logically it was for the best. Even if all her dreams came true, she could never be happy if she wasn't certain Tom wanted it, too.

"What Sybil and I had was rare. It's something that most people never have. And I'm glad that I had that time with her, no matter how short it was." He swallowed, looking down at Mary's hand, still in his. "I was lucky to know her, lucky to love her. But... What you and I have, it's different. And it's no less meaningful. And... well, I never thought I be able to feel like this again. I never thought I could ever want anyone else... but I want you, Mary. I love you and I want you." He looked up at her, eyes glistening with tears. Mary was blinking back more of her own, his words conjuring them up. "If you don't— well, I understand, but—"

"Of course I do," Mary interrupted him with a whisper, not wanting him to believe her reluctance to accept was any fault of his. She squeezed his hand tight. "I do. Yes."

Tom's face broke out into a big smile before he slid the ring onto her finger. His fingers shook and he was close to tears himself by the time he raised himself to his full height and kissed her.

* * *

_One year later_

Anna pinned another flower in Mary's hair. "There," she said softly, stepping back, allowing Mary to admire her masterpiece.

Mary tilted her head. "Thank you," she said, entranced by the contrast of the white petals in her dark hair. "It looks lovely."

"It does," said Mama, echoing her sentiments. She was standing somewhere behind Mary. "Well done, Anna."

"It's nothing," she insisted modestly, but was quickly cut off by Edith, who insisted she needn't minimize her talents.

"Are you going to add flowers to Viola's hair?" George asked suddenly, causing Mary to turn around. He was sitting on her old bed, the same one she slept in whenever she stayed the night at Downton, just as she had last night— Mama and Papa still had their traditions and superstitions. Viola was on his lap, squirming around, her springy chestnut curls hanging loose.

"I don't think she'll will be able to sit still long enough," Mary replied, crossing the room to be near her children. When she noticed her mother approaching, Viola lifted her arms up, nearly hitting George in the face. Mary picked her up, moving her hand away as Viola tried to undo Anna's hard work. "But it would look very pretty," she said, smiling at her son.

"I could do something—"

"It's alright," insisted Mary, dismissing Anna at once. "I think she looks beautiful as she is."

George swung his feet, his shoes hitting the bedspread. He looked dashing in his little suit, far too grown up for a young boy... but the occasion called for it. "Are you excited?" she asked him, sitting down next to him on the bed as Anna began talking with Mama and Edith about something.

George nodded as he said, "Yeah." Mary let Viola crawl off her lap and back over to George. "You look really pretty."

Mary softened. "Thank you, darling. You're very handsome." She reached over, stroking his blond hair. Matthew would be so proud of him...

There was a knock at the door and the muffled sound of crying. "Come in!" Edith called out, walking over to the door.

"Sorry to intrude," Bertie said, opening the door, Percy in his arms. Mary began to wonder if perhaps Tom had been right to question how wise it was to dress him in a suit... but he did look so darling. "Someone was very insistent that he see his mother."

Mary was on her feet in an instant. A part of her wondered if going on honeymoon was such a good idea, especially with the babies (who weren't really babies anymore, but they would always be her babies). Percy was so attached to her... but it was probably for the best. Tom had pointed out that they hadn't ever really had the chance to be alone together without them and sometimes they needed time to be themselves instead of parents, especially since the twins practically consumed them with it. There had been a fair share of strained moments, times when Mary wondered if their relationship was strong enough to survive it, but once they worked through things, it always was.

"It's alright, darling," murmured Mary as Percy wailed into her neck, repeating, " _Mama_ ," over and over again. He was her fussy boy... "I'm here."

"How is he going to manage without you?" Edith wondered, peering at her nephew, whose tears were gradually dissipating.

"I'm not sure... but he'll have to." Percy still cried sometimes when she dropped him off to stay with Mama and Papa when she went to the office, so she was uncertain how he would manage for three nights. "I'm sure George and Sybbie will help him feel a little less homesick... won't you?" She asked George, who nodded enthusiastically.

George was an enormous help with the twins. He genuinely enjoyed playing with them and holding them, often assisting Tom and Mary without having been asked prior. Sybbie adored them as well, but grew irritated sooner than him and usually found some excuse to wander off with Seth when it became too much. Mary wondered if maybe her resolve to never have babies might stick through adulthood. Nevertheless, they had both proved to be excellent siblings to the twins.

When Percy finally calmed down, Mary glanced at the clock. It was almost three... She handed him back to Bertie, still hovering outside in the hallway, as if her bedroom had some invisible line that warded off all men. "There," she said, then bent down to be eye level with Percy, her brown eyes meeting his own, "I'll see you again soon." Thankfully he didn't start crying again after Bertie carried him down the hall.

"Are you really sure about all this, darling?" asked Mama, nearly causing Mary to sigh in exasperation.

"More than anything. Now will you please stop asking me that?"

The twins had helped heal the rifts they had unknowingly formed during Mary's pregnancy, but things with her family weren't always harmonious bliss. Mama and Edith had come to accept her and Tom but Mary knew they still didn't like it. It had led to some fights and strained family dinners but things had calmed down for the most part, save for occasional comments like these. The twins were loved by all of the family and were doted on by nearly everyone. Even Granny, who was usually eager to let babies be held an arm's length away, was fond of them— especially Viola, who she insisted was Mary miniature.

But there were still these comments, usually from her parents— " _Are you sure about this?_ " or " _What will people say?_ "— as if that line hadn't been crossed the moment Mary realized she was pregnant. Besides, people didn't care as much as Mama and Papa thought they did... The neighbors next door hadn't realized they weren't already married until Tom had passed by after taking a jog and mentioned the wedding planning.

Anna handed Mary her bouquet just as there was another knock on the door. Mama opened the door without checking to see who it was, already knowing who it was.

"Mary," Papa addressed her, blinking. It took him a moment before he smiled. "You look lovely, my dear girl."

"Thank you, Papa." She beamed as he crossed the room, kissing his cheek.

"We'll slip out now," said Mama, referring to herself and Edith. She kissed Mary's cheek as well, saying, "I know you may have a hard time believing this, but all I want is your happiness."

It took all of Mary's self restraint to not roll her eyes. That wasn't the same thing as _I'm so glad you're happy_ and Mama knew it. Nevertheless, she gave her mother a polite, if curt, thank you. Edith decided to skip platitudes that meant little to her and merely said, "You look beautiful," before departing. Anna left shortly thereafter, pinning a piece of hair that had come loose back into place before walking out with George and Viola, promising to meet them downstairs.

"Are you ready?" asked Papa, glancing at the clock.

"I am," she responded.

He hesitated before admitting, "Look, Mary... I know I've been hard on you at certain points over the years. Both of you," he added. "And even though this isn't exactly what I wanted or ever pictured for you... I'm alright with that, as long as you're happy. As long as you're both happy."

His monologue was all over the place yet the outcome was far better than Mary had ever imagined. "I'm very happy," she told him, pleased when he smiled. He offered her his arm and they walked out of the room.

When they reached outside, Mary could see the chairs set up, composed of the people they loved. The piano had been brought out for Jimmy to play the wedding processional, and Thomas sat next to him as a page turner, Tessa balanced on his lap. She spied Niamh Branson in the front, wearing a bright, colorful hat as she sat next to Kieran. Several of his relatives, cousins and aunts and uncles were on that side of the aisle. John was near the back, holding Belle while motioning Johnny to sit down as Evelyn Napier and his wife filed down the row to find their seats. Isobel and Dickie were seated next to Granny, the two women tittering back and forth. She wondered what they were arguing about now.

Anna was standing near the children, catching a glimpse of Mary and wearing a radiant smile. Sybbie was holding Percy's hand and Seth's leash, looking impatient in her blue dress. George was dealing with Viola, who was jumping up and down. The alter, which was a trellis, was obscured from her sights by the large tree.

As Sybbie began walking with Percy and Seth down the aisle, Jimmy began playing. She heard the guests start cooing. Mary tried to steady her breathing as she approached closer and closer. Anna sent George and Viola up the aisle, the latter refusing to walk only to be scooped up in George's arms.

Tom was standing there, next to their bench, the blue suit bringing out his eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest and for a split second, she felt as if it was only the two of them standing there.

When her and Papa reached him, Tom held out his hand for her to take. Mary accepted it, almost relieved when she realized how sweaty they were. In the back of her mind, she had still worried that maybe Tom was only doing this for her sake... though she realized how silly a thought it was. Over the years, Tom had made his love for her apparent in everything he did or said and she knew how much he had been looking forward to this day, despite half believing it would never come for him.

"Dearly beloved," began Reverend Travis. Mary's eyes met Tom's and he let his thumb run over knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following along with Tom and Mary's journey, I really do appreciate it! I do have more stories about them planned that I hope to post soon, but until then, please stay healthy and safe!


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